


a bullet with your name on it

by delurks



Series: beyond the borderlands [13]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Amputation, Body Horror, Borderlandscast, Bullying, Burns, Crushes, Depression, Epic Friendship, Eye Trauma, Friendship, Frostbite, Gen, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Insomnia, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbians in Space, Manipulation, Online Friendship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Violence, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 177,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7904686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delurks/pseuds/delurks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>- / / PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / -<br/>My name is Saberial, infamous mercenary and assistant to one Zoeya. Let me tell you a story about my best friend and my sibling. This is how they met and became best friends and rivals, and also how they finally fought to the death.</p><p>There’s lots of blood! Punching people! Shooting! Terrible decisions on everybody’s part! Plus a bit about finding love in a crappy universe! That part involves us, Zoeya. It’s my favourite part. Still want to hear the story? It’s definitely not for children. Alright. Come closer. Closer. A little more. Perfect. There, you won’t get cold while I ramble.</p><p>So, one day, my best friend chose to disappear. On that same day, my sibling almost died, lost a friend and gained an enemy. Blinded by vengeance, my sibling pursued the culprit all the way to Pandora, never knowing that the two are the same person.</p><p>This is how Panda never stopped looking for both, and vowed to bring down Teep once and for all, no matter the cost. I’m only telling you this story because I knew and that someday, maybe the two will forgive me for hiding the truth. But...you probably know how the story already ends, don’t you? Listen anyway.<br/>- / / END OF ECHO RECORDING. / / -</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and all these games we played.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GodOfArrows: ur a scrub  
> \- / /DiNoScope is now typing. / / -  
> GodOfArrows: wtf youve been typing for five minutes now  
> DiNoScope: what the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? ill have you know i graduated top of my class in the DSF, and ive been involved in numerous secret raids on vladof, and i have over 300 confirmed kills. i am trained in guerilla warfare and im the top sniper in the entire DM. you are nothing to me but just another target. i will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before in this galaxy, mark my fucking words. you think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the echonet? [MESSAGE COMPRESSED DUE TO LENGTH] i will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. youre fucking dead, john.  
> GodOfArrows: holy shit dude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> insert coin here to view warnings. just kidding, the usual warnings still stand. there’s some mental health issues that are touched on (depression, suicidal thoughts and acting on those) but not in super great detail. still, please take care when reading.

\- / / GodOfArrows is now live! / / -

Good evening, all you lovely people! How are we all doing today? I’m going to try to stream for about two hours before I got to run.

I see you there, InTheLittleWood, stop trying to sneak in another penis into the donation box. You know what? I don’t care. Let’s get all these dicks in the donations box. Mm, tasty dicks.

What do we feel like listening to today? You guessed it. More blasts from the past! That’s better. Oh, don’t groan. You’ll never find another streamer with the best music taste. If you like the tunes, kudos to you. The haters can hate all they want.

Today we’re playing Life at Dawn. For newbies in the stream, the goal of the game is, as the killer, to kill as many people as you can before dawn happens or if they start all the generators and escape. As a survivor, don’t die. You’d think for a morbid game, it’d have a less happy sounding title.

Let’s equip this and this. Oh, I like the sound of that, so that’s going on instead. Do we want to use any other items? No, I think we’re good.

Let’s get this show on the road. Yes, we’re the killer. Did you expect anything different? I might play a survivor later, if I feel like it. Expect me to crash and burn when I do. For now, let’s be a chainsaw wielding axe maniac. That’s my kind of guy. If there’s any chainsaw wielding axe maniacs in the chat, do message me after the stream, I’d love some tips.

Only two items offered? What do they do...make the place even darker and mistier. Wonderful. Looks like we’ll have to keep our eyes peeled for any survivors.

We’re at the farm. What is this shit. I can barely see my own axe. I have a feeling I’m going to be wrecked but let’s do our absolute best to murder all these survivors and make a pie out of their kidneys.

Okay, so five minutes in and I haven't seen a single survivor or maybe I'm completely missing them in all this fucking mist. It’s mist, not fog! The in-game item said mist, so that’s what I’m going with.

Hang on, what was that? I heard a tiny rustle. Somebody stepped on a twig over here. Let's have a look. Oh, nothing’s hiding here-PSYCHE. Come here so I can make pizza out of your face-HOW DID I MISS.

You can run but you can’t hide, little survivor. How’s my evil laugh? Needs work? Okay, fair enough. Let us prowl the night like a bat. Shut up chat, I know my metaphors suck.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Better?

That’s one down. Five more to go. The parkour system sucks in this game, especially if you’re the killer. Which doesn’t make any sense, you’re just a slightly bigger human carrying a chainsaw and an axe. I mean, those weigh nothing but the animation should be faster. Guns weigh just as much-chat, I swear I’m not a chainsaw willing axe maniac IRL.

GET OVER THE PALLET. NO, I DIDN’T MEAN TO DESTROY IT. These plays, man. These  _ plays. _

You got lucky, you son of a gun. I’ll find you later. And when I do, I’m going to put you in the basement.

This is bad, I’ve only killed two out of four survivors and there’s another two lurking around here somewhere. They’ve done nearly all of the generators too. I am getting wrecked today. That’s okay, but let’s try to get the rest of these plebs onto hooks or else I’m going to be really fucking salty.

Hold up, let me tab out and check the levels of the survivors. Okay, so we’re a rank five killer, so that’s nothing to sneeze at (this system is so broken). Survivors are rank twenty, twenty, fifteen and-chat, am I dreaming, we’re up against a prestiged survivor _.  _ Fuck, no wonder why we’re getting wrecked here. I haven’t killed them yet. I haven’t even  _ seen _ them yet.

Please, please, please let this survivor be the prestiged one. GODDAMMIT. Well, you’re dead now. I didn’t think they’d run in to save their friend anyway. If I was a survivor, would I be heading to the exit now, the escape hatch or farming points?

I don’t like being a made to look like a fool five fucking times. YOU. DIE NOW. WHAT. HOW THE FUCK DID I MISS THAT ONE. YOU CAN’T PARKOUR UP THE WALL AND INTO THE EXIT. I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW YOU COULD DO THAT.

We lost this one. I think they were farming points by letting me chase them, but them plays. Not many people play this game at this hour, so I reckon we’ll run into them again. For now, let’s play Underguard.

What’s really surprising is that the survivor didn’t have a username. Newbies, you can get a username by buying a sub or being gifted one or else you can’t save your progress for anything. Yeah, it’s stupid but that’s what game are like these days. 

They must really like the game if they’ve never logged out. I’m talking sinking in more than a hundred hours already and the game hasn’t even been out for two whole weeks.

InTheLittleWood, are you calling _ me  _ a try-hard? Get out of here. Don’t try to donate to get back into my heart. Hmmmmm, I see you’ve dropped fifty big ones. You may have redeemed yourself slightly in my eyes. Hello there invite, who are you from? Let’s join up with the one and only FiZone for some ranking in Underguard.

FiZone! Thanks for the invite. Solo queing sucks. InTheLittleWood, if you want to get in on this hot multiplayer team action, you have thirty seconds. Ooohh, too bad. Next game, def. FiZone and I aren’t that mean. Is there anybody else who wants in? FiZone will dispense with the invites after this game. Vertiigo, I know you’re in the chat, I just saw you type ‘lol’.

I don't believe it. Look at this bullshit. We’re on the same team as  _ them.  _ FiZone, I had my ass handed to me by that same person in Life At Dawn. I was a killer and that survivor whooped my ass. DON’T LAUGH AT ME. FiZone is mean. So, so mean. Chat, spam some sad emotes so FiZone can have a change of heart and apologise for being a bully. I AM NOT A SORE LOSER.

Look at them jumping. Look at that smug ass ninja scrambling up the walls. Fizone, I’m not checking out their ass, I’m-well, they do have a pretty sweet ass, but that’s not the point. I’m punching them in the name of welcoming them onto the team. They’re punching back. Could this be the start of something beautiful?

Calm. We are calm, composed and-YOU DID NOT JUST FUCKING WRECK MY TURRET. I’m switching back to my favourite hero to killsteal. FiZone, tell that other guy to stop shooting at air so he can actually hit someone.

Need heal, need heal, need heal, WHO TOOK THE BLOODY MEDKIT. YOU? FUCK YOU. DID YOU JUST SAY ‘HELLO’ AND RUN OFF? YOU BI-I died. Thanks a lot. We’re not doing so well today.

FiZone, you ready? I’m going to pop my ult and then you can go in, guns blazing-NO, WHY DID YOU DIE. Looks like it’s just me and ninja hiding behind the crate over there. Let me go on voice chat. 

We only got two minutes to take that point. It’s now or never. Time to put all this salt aside.

Hey, you, the green ninja. I know you can hear me. No mic? What are you doing in a team game without a mic. Never mind, uhhh. Jump if you can hear me. Does this mean you’ve been ignoring us to go do your own thing?  _ FUCK YOU.  _

Listen, I hate you so much right now but we only have a minute to take that point. I have an ult. I know you have your ult too, I haven’t seen you use it even once. We go in together once I use my ult and then you can use yours. Sound good? Jump if you agree. 

Or you can go in on your own and-how are they not dead. Wait, the healer’s down. Holy shit, they just went straight to the back and offed the healer. That’s  _ cold. _

I’m using my ult, fuck it, they know I’m hiding here so I don’t think I’ll hit anyone. One, two, three-WE JUST KILLED THEIR WHOLE TEAM. I DON’T BELIEVE IT. I’m capping the point while we can. Where did ninja go. This is great! They’re camping spawn and running interference. And the point is ours. Rank 15, here I come! Gg, indeed chat, gg. Hey, they’re actually sticking around. This is going to be  _ fantastic. _

Well, I’m off for the night. I know I could stream for another half an hour but those last few games were super intense, so I’m tired. Have a lovely night and I’ll see you all later for the next stream!

\- / / GodOfArrows is now offline. / / -

\- / / GodOfArrows is no longer idle. / / -

\- / / FiZone is no longer idle. / / -

FiZone: panda, lets invite them into the group

GodOfArrows: what

FiZone: invite them to join!

GodOfArrows: im not inviting that person into the group!

GodOfArrows: theyre an asshole

GodOfArrows: did you see the way they fucking ignored all our pointers

FiZone: but they did kill off the whole team more than once! 

GodOfArrows: they succeeded, yes, but look at how they took my medkit earlier

GodOfArrows: do we really want a medkit, kill-stealing prick on the team 

FiZone: yes!

GodOfArrows: why do you want them on the team

FiZone: there’s a lot of potential talent there

GodOfArrows: potential talent my ass

FiZone: youre just salty that they took your medkit and stole all your kills

GodOfArrows: maybe a little

FiZone: your salt levels are off the chart

FiZone: wait let me illustrate my point

FiZone: see this chart

FiZone: this is you and this is all your salt

GodOfArrows: you drew my head too big

FiZone: shut up

FiZone: look at all this salt

FiZone: so much salt, panda

FiZone: its coming out of your ears

GodOfArrows: stfu

GodOfArrows: im not sending them an invite

FiZone: we can always kick them later

GodOfArrows: fuck you and your need to recruit all the medkit, kill stealing assholes

GodOfArrows: you owe me

FiZone: ill buy you the limited edition illustrated fifth got book for your birthday

GodOfArrows: forgiven

\--

GodOfArrows: gg

guest3097: Yeah, great game.

guest3097: What do you want?

GodOfArrows: are you interested in joining our group

GodOfArrows: we don't usually extend invites to random people but after seeing you in action

GodOfArrows: we’ve reconsidered

guest3097: What's in it for me?

GodOfArrows: my friend

GodOfArrows: you drive a tough bargain

GodOfArrows: most people would shoot themselves in the foot at the chance to join our group

GodOfArrows: well

GodOfArrows: we got quality people who got your back no matter what game you're playing, for starters

GodOfArrows: and no offense, but looking through your achievements 

GodOfArrows: holy shit

guest3097: I got a lot of free time on my hands.

guest3097: Your achievements are no laughing matter either.

GodOfArrows: is that a compliment i hear 

guest3097: You can take it however you want.

GodOfArrows: so you joining or what

guest3097: What else you got to offer?

GodOfArrows: well give you a new username and sponsor your subscription

guest3097: It'd better not suck.

GodOfArrows: take a look at my name

GodOfArrows: do you think that sucks

guest3097: You have a fair point.

GodOfArrows: what's your favorite animal

guest3097: Already dispensing with the twenty questions? You move fast for a recruiter. 

guest3097: You're not even going to buy me dinner first?

GodOfArrows: i will if it'll get you to join our group

GodOfArrows: come on

GodOfArrows: its a pretty good deal

GodOfArrows: btw

GodOfArrows: pizza's the only thing on our menu

guest3097: I like dinosaurs. 

guest3097: Yes, I’m being serious.

GodOfArrows: dinosaurs are fucking cool

guest3097: Some people are inclined to disagree.

GodOfArrows: some people clearly dont know whats awesome

GodOfArrows: heres your new username: DiNoScope

guest3097: Really? DiNoScope?

GodOfArrows: youre good with a gun and you like dinosaurs

GodOfArrows: also

GodOfArrows: you didn't give me a lot to work with here

GodOfArrows: you also never confirmed liking pizza

\- / / guest3097 is now idle. / / -

GodOfArrows: you didn't log off, did you

GodOfArrows: heeeelllllllllllllooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

GodOfArrows: is anybody there

\- / / guest3097 has renamed to ‘DiNoScope’. / / -

DiNoScope: I'd better not regret this.

GodOfArrows: so that's a yes

DiNoScope: What’s it look like?

GodOfArrows: excellent

GodOfArrows: you may call me ‘john’, or ‘your ass-kicking benevolent trigger-happy overlord’

DiNoScope: Really, ‘John’?

GodOfArrows: shut up

GodOfArrows: ‘john’ is a perfectly normal name on here

GodOfArrows: it beats ‘edgelord19575’

DiNoScope: pronouns?

GodOfArrows: they/them, pls

GodOfArrows: what about you

DiNoScope: I go by ‘Greenman’ on other places. It was already taken on here so I didn’t bother.

DiNoScope: They/Them as well.

GodOfArrows: can I call you ‘green’ for short

DiNoScope: If you want.

GodOfArrows: we’re doing another game in five if you want in

GodOfArrows: accept the invite then

GodOfArrows: next round's starting, you in

DiNoScope: Yes.

DiNoScope: We'll see if your group is as pro as you say it is.

GodOfArrows: we might as well introduce you to the dream team while were at it

\- / / DiNoScope has joined the chat. / / -

FiZone: hello there!

Vertiigo: FRESH MEAT

TForce: WELCOME, INITIATE

InTheLittleWood: NEW PERSON, HI

GodOfArrows: easy there, dont scare them

GodOfArrows: where is everybody tonight

InTheLittleWood: asleep

FiZone: introductions will have to wait but welcome to the group!

DiNoScope: Thanks for the invite.

GodOfArrows: no more killstealing, pls

DiNoScope: I didn’t see your name on them.

FiZone: BURN

InTheLittleWood: i like this person already

\--

GodOfArrows: hey

DiNoScope: Hey.

GodOfArrows: what's up

DiNoScope: Nothing much. Just waiting for this update to finish installing.

GodOfArrows: im home for once

GodOfArrows: which means i can now download the new update as well

GodOfArrows: did you see the new patch as well

DiNoScope: I know that feeling.

DiNoScope: It’s ridiculous. They’re nerfing my favourite hero.

GodOfArrows: thats what you get for playing them constantly and for spamming the ult

DiNoScope: You’re just jealous of my mad skills.

DiNoScope: I might switch to your hero then.

GodOfArrows: woah woah, lets talk about this like adults

GodOfArrows: there can only be room for one hero on the team

DiNoScope: You want to go?

GodOfArrows: yeah i do!

GodOfArrows: once this patch downloads

DiNoScope: I’m not getting any younger over here.

GodOfArrows: HOLD ON

GodOfArrows: hacker voice

GodOfArrows: im in

GodOfArrows: lets do this

DiNoScope: I don’t get it.

GodOfArrows: you dont get what

DiNoScope: ‘hacker voice. im in.’

GodOfArrows: you don’t get the meme

DiNoScope: No.

GodOfArrows: my friend, let me enlighten you

\--

GodOfArrows: what do you do again

DiNoScope: Buy me dinner first, then I'll answer all the questions you want me to.

GodOfArrows: well, as i said the first time we met:

GodOfArrows: GodOfArrows: you also never confirmed liking pizza

\- / / guest3097 is now idle. / / -

GodOfArrows: you didn't log off, did you

GodOfArrows: heeeelllllllllllllooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

GodOfArrows: oops, ignore the latter

DiNoScope: You remember that?

GodOfArrows: well, yeah

GodOfArrows: youre the only person who hasnt accepted the invite straightaway

GodOfArrows: people would kill to get into our group

DiNoScope: You’re the only person who’s succeeded in recruiting me, if that’s any comfort.

GodOfArrows: am i the really only one whos succeeded in recruiting you

DiNoScope: Yes. And a lot of people have tried in the past. I’ve had to block them.

GodOfArrows: was it my charming looks

DiNoScope: I bet you look like binedictus cucumberbitch in real life.

GodOfArrows: how dare u

GodOfArrows: ill have you know i have better hair than that dude

GodOfArrows: wait

GodOfArrows: did you just fucking meme

DiNoScope: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

GodOfArrows: YOU DID

\--

GodOfArrows: okay

GodOfArrows: youre not even going to give a hint about your location so i can courier you a pizza

GodOfArrows: or an email so i can echo you the money

DiNoScope: It’s kind of hard to get pizza on a military world.

GodOfArrows: shit, that bad, huh

GodOfArrows: i know themis is really bad atm

GodOfArrows: please tell me youre not on themis

DiNoScope: I'm not.

GodOfArrows: okay, what about athenas

DiNoScope: That cult ridden, siren obsessed planet?

DiNoScope: No fucking way.

GodOfArrows: thrace then

DiNoScope: You are nowhere close.

GodOfArrows: look, just give me your echo code and ill forward you the money

DiNoScope: You're not kidding about buying me dinner, are you?

GodOfArrows: youre the only person in this group that i havent bought pizza for in the three months ive known you

GodOfArrows: its a long story and tradition so dont ask unless youre prepared to get your ass bored off

GodOfArrows: everyone has bets running on whether or not youll even accept the pizza

GodOfArrows: im so sick of people asking me when ill send it along

GodOfArrows: i dont even care if you buy one or not with the money

GodOfArrows: look, ill share half my bet winnings with you because its getting ridiculous at this point

GodOfArrows: deal

DiNoScope: Deal.

GodOfArrows: you didnt even think about it

GodOfArrows: you just said 'deal', just like that

GodOfArrows: wtf

GodOfArrows: that was way too easy

DiNoScope: You had me at 'share half the winnings'.

GodOfArrows: you fucker, are you in league with the betters

DiNoScope: I don't even have a quarter of them friended.

GodOfArrows: okay, i believe you

GodOfArrows: im starting to regret giving you half my winnings since its actually quite a lot

DiNoScope: how much are we talking about here?

GodOfArrows: like

GodOfArrows: fifty thousand dollars

DiNoScope: Too bad. Better pay up.

GodOfArrows: a deal is a deal

GodOfArrows: there, ive sent the money (plus pizza money)

GodOfArrows: what are you going to buy with all that cash

DiNoScope: I've had my eye on this vintage sniper rifle for a while now.

GodOfArrows: what make

DiNoScope: Atlas.

GodOfArrows: wow, you definitely dont fuck around with vintage

GodOfArrows: are you going to use it

DiNoScope: Maybe.

GodOfArrows: seems like a waste to let it collect dust in a trophy case

DiNoScope: Fuck, somebody just bought it yesterday.

DiNoScope: Guess I’ll buy my second choice instead.

GodOfArrows: sorry to hear that somebody bought your first choice

GodOfArrows: link me pls

DiNoScope:  [here](http://borderlands.wikia.com/wiki/Godfinger)

GodOfArrows: thats beautiful

GodOfArrows: im crying just looking at it

GodOfArrows: too bad its jakobs

DiNoScope: I got nothing against Jakobs but the specs seem solid and it's on sale.

GodOfArrows: let me know how it performs because that is a real beast of a gun

DiNoScope: Sure.

\--

DiNoScope: well, it certainly lives up to its quality.

GodOfArrows: good to know youre not wasting the fifty thousand i sent you

DiNoScope: please, i don't just buy any gun without excellent reason.

GodOfArrows: what would you recommend for someone who likes up close and personal

DiNoScope: pistol or shotgun?

DiNoScope: what about elemental?

GodOfArrows: shotgun, preferably

GodOfArrows: im not picky about elementals

DiNoScope:  [this one ](http://borderlands.wikia.com/wiki/Conference_Call)

DiNoScope: these are going pretty fast, so better get in quick.

GodOfArrows: done

DiNoScope: how do you know i'm not trolling you?

GodOfArrows: youve had plenty of chances to troll me and met them all wonderfully

GodOfArrows: fool me once, shame on you

GodOfArrows: fool me twice, shame on me

DiNoScope: fair enough.

GodOfArrows: hey, did you ever buy pizza with the remaining money i sent you

DiNoScope: yes.

GodOfArrows: :)

DiNoScope: seems like a waste not to.

GodOfArrows: youre welcome.

GodOfArrows: you never answered what planet youre based on, btw

DiNoScope: eden-5 at the moment.

GodOfArrows: wait, so youre military

DiNoScope: whatever gave you that impression?

GodOfArrows: you said you were on a military planet a while back

DiNoScope: i never said i was military and i felt like a change of scenery so i left tantalus.

DiNoScope: i also told you that you weren't close with your guesses.

GodOfArrows: seems like a long way to travel for a change of scenery

DiNoScope: it's hard to find a planet these days that's not under military siege or being blockaded.

GodOfArrows: you could come to where im usually based if you run into trouble

GodOfArrows: its not too far from where you are now

GodOfArrows: if you dont mind putting up with four of my older siblings and my parents

DiNoScope: you have a large family.

GodOfArrows: indeed i do

GodOfArrows: what about you

DiNoScope: haven't been in touch with any familial relations for years.

GodOfArrows: are they assholes or are they dead or both

DiNoScope: don't know.

GodOfArrows: what do you mean by 'dont know'

DiNoScope: my job requires me to move around a lot.

DiNoScope: it's not a big deal.

GodOfArrows: what do you do

DiNoScope: independent contractor.

GodOfArrows: same

GodOfArrows: who are you with atm

DiNoScope: for now?

DiNoScope: dahl.

GodOfArrows: dahls not half bad. they offer a decent pay and compensation if anything goes wrong

GodOfArrows: you been with them long

DiNoScope: you could say that. i’m just waiting to wrap up things in terms of pay before i leave.

GodOfArrows: so soon

GodOfArrows: you werent kidding about moving around a lot

DiNoScope: i'm used to it.

GodOfArrows: i am too but dont you ever think of settling down

DiNoScope: no.

GodOfArrows: not even a little

DiNoScope: no.

GodOfArrows: im talking about in one place, not getting married or having a threesome or whatever it is youre into

DiNoScope: i know.

DiNoScope: the answer is still no.

DiNoScope: my job keeps me busy enough as it is.

DiNoScope: even considering long-distance.

GodOfArrows: so, youre single, not looking, you live alone and sound like youre pretty well off

GodOfArrows: can i come and visit you

DiNoScope: you’re not allowed to visit me, even if i end up telling you where i live because i know for a fucking fact that you’ll just troll me.

GodOfArrows: gasp

GodOfArrows: how dare you doubt me!

GodOfArrows: im as pure as virginal, driven snow

GodOfArrows: so

GodOfArrows: not even a tiny bit of trolling

DiNoScope: no.

DiNoScope: what’s with all the questions today?

GodOfArrows: im asking for a friend

DiNoScope: sure you are.

GodOfArrows: look, ill prove it

\- / / FiZone joined the chat. / / -

\--

GodOfArrows: okay so from what i gather, theyre based on eden-5 atm, move around a lot, have no family to my knowledge, arent seeing anybody or are interested in meeting people

GodOfArrows: are you happy now

FiZone: thanks, i tried talking to them and was getting nowhere!

GodOfArrows: it takes a while for them to warm up to people

FiZone: no kidding

GodOfArrows: i think they know i was fishing around for information

GodOfArrows: they still answered my questions

GodOfArrows: im happy with that

FiZone: you didnt have to try so hard for me!

FiZone: all i wanted to know was their birthday so we could get everyone onto the server and make something nice for them

FiZone: i got everyones birthdays but theirs

GodOfArrows: well, to be fair, i was curious as well

GodOfArrows: and i think they’re curious about me too

GodOfArrows: hold up, im gonna invite you to the chat so you can explain your curiosity and clear my name

FiZone: sure thing!

\--

FiZone: green, are you there?

DiNoScope: yes.

FiZone: johns going to be away for about a week to visit family so im taking over the group!

FiZone: they told me to run things by you first, tho

DiNoScope: you can do whatever you want since your judgement is good from what ive seen, compared to all the other assholes they usually pick.

FiZone: thanks, im glad you think i got great judgement!

DiNoScope: hold up, i didn’t say you had ‘great’ judgement, i said you had ‘good’ judgement. 

DiNoScope: there’s a world of difference between the two.

FiZone: :(

DiNoScope: that was a joke.

FiZone: oh, okay!

FiZone: it’s kind of hard to tell over text, thats all

DiNoScope: do you want me to come onto voice chat if that’ll help?

FiZone: !

DiNoScope: yes or no?

FiZone: i want to say ‘yes’ but john has got to be here for it so it’s a ‘no’

DiNoScope: why?

FiZone: its the first time you’ve offered to come onto voice chat since you joined the group!

DiNoScope: firstly, can you explain something?

FiZone: what do you want me to explain?

DiNoScope: are you super close to john?

FiZone: yes, i am!

DiNoScope: in what context?

FiZone: we are siblings

DiNoScope: oh.

FiZone: did you think we were dating or something?

DiNoScope: no, not really. i actually thought you two were roommates.

FiZone: well, youre not wrong about that!

FiZone: youre the first person to think were roommates

FiZone: everybody usually thinks were dating

FiZone: which is really fucking stupid

DiNoScope: everybody else is a fucking idiot

FiZone: hehe, are you secretly glad john and i are siblings/roommates?

DiNoScope: in a way, yes.

DiNoScope: because that means i don’t have to worry about a break-up and it’d be super awkward if you both came to me and complained about it at the same time.

FiZone:: wow, i genuinely cant tell if youre being super sarcastic or relieved

FiZone: wait

FiZone: that means you did think we were dating!

DiNoScope: what.

DiNoScope: no.

FiZone: yes it does!

DiNoScope: what could i have said that means i thought that you were possibly dating?

FiZone: ‘because that means i don’t have to worry about a break-up and it’d be super awkward if you both came to me and complained about it at the same time.’

DiNoScope: that doesn’t prove anything.

FIZone: its okay, you don’t have to deny anything

\--

GodOfArrows: accept the fucking invite, you motherfucker

GodOfArrows: and get onto voice chat

FiZone: yeah! we’ve been waiting a whole week

FiZone: we cant wait to hear your sweet, dulcet tones

DiNoScope: hold on, you impatient fucks.

FiZone: oh my

GodOfArrows: WTF?????????

DiNoScope: how do you like me now.

FiZone: im

FiZone: in fucking tears

FiZone: i wasnt expecting this

FiZone: im gonna mute myself for a sec

GodOfArrows: YOURE NOT ALLOWED TO USE A SYNTHETIC VOICE ON VOICE CHAT

GodOfArrows: THAT’S CHEATING

DiNoScope: is not.

GodOfArrows: WHERE IS YOUR REAL VOICE?

DiNoScope: i am using it.

GodOfArrows: I CANT PLAY WITH YOU IF YOU USE THAT VOICE

GodOfArrows: i dont think I can shoot straight if i hear you talk

DiNoScope: whatever happened to wanting to play with me?

GodOfArrows: well

DiNoScope: i will shoot you if you say that was innuendo.

GodOfArrows: it totally fucking was

GodOfArrows: YOU DID NOT JUST BLAST ME OFF A CLIFF

DiNoScope: that was your own grenade.

DiNoScope: i don’t even have to do anything to get you to kill yourself.

GodOfArrows: you fucker

FiZone: please dont ruin the ranked match

FiZone: I FUCKING HATE YOU TWO SO MUCH RIGHT NOW

GodOfArrows: it was their fault

DiNoScope: it was their fault.

\--

GodOfArrows: so whens your bday

DiNoScope: why do you want to know?

GodOfArrows: its not in your profile

DiNoScope: it’s not, for a good reason

GodOfArrows: but what if i want to send you a pressie

DiNoScope: save your money

GodOfArrows: :(

GodOfArrows: what if i bought you a game on your wishlist

DiNoScope: that’s more acceptable

GodOfArrows: excellent

GodOfArrows: did you just remove all the games from it just now

GodOfArrows: you are not making this easy at all

GodOfArrows: do i have to work for it

DiNoScope: yeah, you’d better work for it, bitch

DiNoScope: you did not just buy me fifty loot boxes for ug

GodOfArrows: bitch, im making it rain loot for you

DiNoScope: that must have cost you two hundred dollars

GodOfArrows: worth it

DiNoScope: when is your birthday

GodOfArrows: next month

DiNoScope: you like word holders right

GodOfArrows: that I do

DiNoScope: k

\--

GodOfArrows: pls read this one

FiZone: ‘sin under the moonlight’

FiZone: ‘a racy adventure involving a sexy threesome with a vampire and a werewolf; which one will you choose, if at all?’

FiZone: ill pass, thanks

FiZone: hang on, these arrived on your birthday last week and green was telling me about the package they sent to you

FiZone: did green buy you a hundred harlequin novels

GodOfArrows: yes

GodOfArrows: im in tears

GodOfArrows: they are amazing

GodOfArrows: holy shit

FiZone: no wonder i can hear you laughing from your room!

FiZone: let me see your collection right now

GodOfArrows: ignore the two naked dudes kissing on the cover of the one im reading

GodOfArrows: its actually a slow burn

FiZone: can i borrow this one

GodOfArrows: which one

FiZone: ‘she hung my heart at sunset’

FiZone: its a choose your own adventure

FiZone: seems pretty racy

FiZone: you left a five star review on it! and all the others!

GodOfArrows: well,people deserve to know what theyre getting into

GodOfArrows: yeah, ive read that one

GodOfArrows: youd like it

GodOfArrows: also hows dating going

FiZone: no luck

FiZone: the second they hear im a merc, they go running off in the opposite direction :(

GodOfArrows: what

GodOfArrows: do i need to fucking track them down and tell them what theyre missing out on

FiZone: NO

GodOfArrows: why not

GodOfArrows: mom would

FiZone: its bad enough that mercs have a reputation

FiZone: i dont need you or mom breaking their legs either and making things worse

GodOfArrows: you let me break that one persons legs yesterday

FiZone: that was because they called mom ‘fat’ bc they were salty over my promotion

FiZone: and youre better at breaking legs than i am

GodOfArrows: you do them more neatly

FiZone: you make it hurt worse

GodOfArrows: right

GodOfArrows: is that why you were down a couple of days ago

GodOfArrows: you could have told me!

FiZone: its silly

GodOfArrows: no its not

FiZone: it is

GodOfArrows: open up your door

GodOfArrows: im outside

FiZone: no

FiZone: mom will murder you if you break down my door so dont even try

GodOfArrows: hold on

\- / / DiNoScope has joined the chat. / / -

DiNoScope: its four am in the fucking morning where i am

DiNoScope: what do you two assholes want

DiNoScope: this had better be good

GodOfArrows: youre awake anyway watching got season one with me so dont lie

DiNoScope: fine

GodOfArrows: do you think FiZone is an amazing and dateable person even if theyre an independent contractor like us

DiNoScope: one hundred fucking percent yes

FiZone: why

DiNoScope: because it’s the truth

DiNoScope: your job shouldn’t exactly define how dateable you are

DiNoScope: unless you’re a dictator in which case

GodOfArrows: diaf

DiNoScope: thank you, john

GodOfArrows: FiZone

\- / / FiZone is now idle. / / -

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): i have no idea if that worked in cheering her up

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows): i know jack shit about family so i dont even know why you invited me to the chat

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): she is your friend and my family

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): you asshole

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows): you’re right.

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows): sorry.

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): its okay

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): :( shes really sad right now

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows): climb in through her bedroom window

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): if i did that, id have a grenade up my ass bc of all those traps shes got set

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows): not the first time thats happened

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): wow

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): okay but seriously

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): we need to get her out of that funk

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): i dont like seeing her this sad 

DiNoScope (whisper to GodfArrows): we could do ranked with her

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows): round up everyone

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows): no more fucking around while doing ranked

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows): we’re getting her that fucking rank one by tonight even if it kills us

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): thats if she feels like it

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): but if she says yes, we put the trolling on hold

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): truce

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows): truce

GodOfArrows (whisper to DiNoScope): okay let me go and ask her

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows): okay

\- / / FiZone is now no longer idle. / / -

FiZone: youd really do ranked with me?

GodOfArrows: yes

DiNoScope: yes

FiZone: without trolling each other or going double sniper just to fuck with the team

GodOfArrows: YES

DiNoScope: what sort of fucking plebs do you take us for

FiZone: but you two hate doing serious ranked matches unless theres loot involved

DiNoScope: were making an exception for you and only for you

FiZone: just wait until InTheLittleWood hears about this

FiZone: theyre going to be so mad

GodOfArrows: dont worry, they know already and are willing to fuel the cause

DiNoScope: get in the game already

GodOfArrows: are you ready

DiNoScope: let’s wipe the floor with these suckers

FiZone: theyre about to learn the true meaning of ‘professionals’ >:)

DiNoScope: that’s the lamest catchphrase i’ve ever heard

FiZone: its not like you can come up with any better

GodOfArrows: IM DEAD ALREADY WHY

\--

FiZone: green?

DiNoScope: yes?

FiZone: thank you

DiNoScope: for what?

FiZone: john told me about how you wanted to cheer me up

\- / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / -

FiZone: green?

\- / / DiNoScope is now no longer idle. / / -

DiNoScope: sorry

DiNoScope: passed out for a sec there

DiNoScope: it was nothing

DiNoScope: you would have done the same for me

DiNoScope: probably

FiZone: i really would have!

DiNoScope: it was mostly john anyway

FiZone: you should sleep 

FiZone: you deserve it after all that pro sniping and blocking you did back there <3

DiNoScope: i should

DiNoScope: or try

DiNoScope: later

\--

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

\- / / DiNoScope is now no longer idle. / / -

DiNoScope: please stfu

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: hey

InTheLittleWood: there you are!

InTheLittleWood: can i ask you a question

DiNoScope: if its about my birthday

DiNoScope: im not fucking telling you

DiNoScope: ive had john asking me too many times

InTheLittleWood: uh

InTheLittleWood: noooooo

DiNoScope: :|

InTheLittleWood: do you like bunkers and badasses?

DiNoScope: no

InTheLittleWood: damn

InTheLittleWood: i was hoping to start a group but not enough people play it in ours :(

InTheLittleWood: do you know anyone who might like playing it?

DiNoScope: ill send you a link to a forum FiZone used to hang out on

DiNoScope: try that

InTheLittleWood: !

InTheLittleWood: you’re a lifesaver

DiNoScope: get john to play with you

DiNoScope: theyre a fucking nerd

InTheLittleWood: i asked! john’s too busy with irl stuff

InTheLittleWood: something about attending an award ceremony for becoming the best merc in the galaxy or something

DiNoScope: john is full of shit

DiNoScope: they were just saying that to impress the newbies

InTheLittleWood: hey

DiNoScope: if you say that one more time 

DiNoScope: i will kick you

InTheLittleWood: :p

InTheLittleWood: but what if john really was the best merc in the galaxy?

DiNoScope: nah

DiNoScope: john’s too short to be the best merc in the galaxy

InTheLittleWood: HAVE YOU MET JOHN IRL?

DiNoScope: calm your fucking tits

DiNoScope: that was a joke

InTheLittleWood: oh :(

InTheLittleWood: for a sec, i thought you did

InTheLittleWood: nobody ever does irl meet ups anymore

DiNoScope: get on echoner and swipe until you find someone

InTheLittleWood: i don't think there’s enough people who use that where i am

DiNoScope: continue being a sad lonely fuck then

InTheLittleWood: how rood

InTheLittleWood: green, play this game with me

InTheLittleWood: it's good

DiNoScope: sublimation

InTheLittleWood: survival co-op horror in dystopian future

InTheLittleWood: it hits a little too close to home in some places but i think you’d like it

InTheLittleWood: it also has pvp, which you so very love

InTheLittleWood: (also pls play with me bc i’m too scared to play it on my own now)

DiNoScope: you are a fucking baby

DiNoScope: its done installing

DiNoScope: add me, bitch

InTheLittleWood: done!

\--

InTheLittleWood: feed me

InTheLittleWood: I’M GONNA DIE IF YOU DON’T FEED ME

DiNoScope: i dont have any more food

InTheLittleWood: YOUR BABY WANTS FOOD NOW

DiNoScope: im afraid ill have to mercy kill you and then feed you your dead body once you respawn

InTheLittleWood: dude

InTheLittleWood: no

InTheLittleWood: that’s my body you’re talking about

InTheLittleWood: it might be full of rank diseases

DiNoScope: thats what you get for fucking the hag back there

InTheLittleWood: HE GAVE US FOOD AND SHELTER YOU UNGRATEFUL PRICK

DiNoScope: which you role played through

DiNoScope: on the mic

DiNoScope: with a little too much enthusiasm

DiNoScope: im not sure ill ever forgive you for that

InTheLittleWood: it was a good boning!

DiNoScope: did you press ‘d’ to get dicked

InTheLittleWood: i hammered that fucking button like a pro

InTheLittleWood: i got an achievement too

InTheLittleWood: hagfucker

InTheLittleWood: only for the bravest of adventurers

InTheLittleWood: we cuddled after too

InTheLittleWood: which was nice

DiNoScope: i know

DiNoScope: i saw

InTheLittleWood: don’t kinkshame me

InTheLittleWood: you are holding out on me, even after i gave you a show

DiNoScope: i was locked in the room with you two

DiNoScope: it didnt even give me the choice to leave

InTheLittleWood: you got the achievement ‘filthy voyeur’ so i don’t know what you’re complaining about

InTheLittleWood: so give me the can

DiNoScope: its my can of beans

DiNoScope: fuck off

InTheLittleWood: I ONLY HAVE THIRTY SECONDS BEFORE I DIE OF STARVATION

DiNoScope: fine

DiNoScope: catch

DiNoScope: dont miss the quick time event

DiNoScope: looks like you died due to being brained with a can of beans instead

DiNoScope: slowclaps

InTheLittleWood: im gonna cry now

DiNoScope: i should get john to play this with us

DiNoScope: you were right

DiNoScope: this is a fun game

InTheLittleWood: i hate this game

\--

InTheLittleWood: good news, peeps

FiZone: :o

GodOfArrows: :o

Vertiigo: :o

TForce: :o

InTheLittleWood: well not everyone’s here but it's very important

TForce: get on with it

TForce: everyone who matters is here

TForce: except for green 

FiZone: if its what i think it is, then this is a good thing

InTheLittleWood: it took us six months but i finally found out green’s birthday

GodOfArrows: WHAT 

GodOfArrows: I THOUGHT THAT WAS MY JOB

FiZone: it was an open job, John!

GodOfArrows: i thought i was greens bestie :(

FiZone: you are!

FiZone: we have a birthday at last

FiZone: time to add it to The Calendar

InTheLittleWood: aw yeah

TForce: we are way overdue on this birthday thing

FiZone: john we have a job for you

FiZone: stop sulking

GodOfArrows: did green tell you their birthday

InTheLittleWood: uh

InTheLittleWood: not quite

GodOfArrows: what

FiZone: what

TForce: what

Vertiigo: :o

InTheLittleWood: i may have sneaked a look at the profiles they made on sublimation before they could edit them

InTheLittleWood: and three of them matched up so

InTheLittleWood: i assumed that it’s their actual birthday?

FiZone: it’s close enough

FiZone: and all we have

FiZone: itll do

GodOfArrows: until we find out their actual birthday, at any rate

TForce: initiate Wood, you deserve a promotion

TForce: FiZone, would you get out The Stick

FiZone: sure

InTheLittleWood: what’s The Stick?

\--

TForce: nothing

GodOfArrows: seriously

TForce: i poked around on all their profiles and all the birthdays are now edited out

TForce: they really don’t want anyone to know their birthday

TForce: even when i took all the back doors in

GodOfArrows: damn

TForce: i didn’t want to upset FiZone or InTheLittleWood but

GodOfArrows: but

TForce: have you considered that they’re lying about their birthday for a legit reason?

GodOfArrows: i dont think they would

GodOfArrows: not without a good reason

TForce: just saying

GodOfArrows: you’re too paranoid, flax

GodOfArrows: im sure it’ll be fine

\--

DiNoScope: if this is a ‘some’ or whatever it is 

DiNoScope: im outie

FiZone: its not!

GodOfArrows: it is

GodOfArrows: prepare for the fucking of your life

DiNoScope: fuck you two

DiNoScope: platonically

InTheLittleWood: how does that work? :o

TForce: it’s fwb, right Vertiigo?

Vertiigo: :) u know it is, flax

TForce: <3

Vertiigo: <3

FiZone: you can take off the blindfold now!

DiNoScope: never did i think i would ever buy a game where i could be blindfolded and fucked

DiNoScope: if i had a kink that would be it

GodOfArrows: you’re welcome you nasty sick fuck

FiZone: no kinkshaming

DiNoScope: what is this

GodOfArrows: its a monument to all your sins

GodOfArrows: ow

DiNoScope: its a statue of a green dinosaur with a sniper rifle

FiZone: its you!

DiNoScope: i can see that

FiZone: climb up here and have a closer look

FiZone: InTheLittleWood, come here and be the stepping stool

InTheLittleWood: i am honoured

TForce: we spent literal hours trying to decipher your pixelated clusterfuck of an avatar

GodOfArrows: soooo, what do you think

\- / / DiNoScope has logged out. / / -

GodOfArrows: welp

FiZone: oh no

TForce: COME BACK YOU DIDN’T EVEN SEE ALL THE DETAIL

InTheLittleWood: :o

Vertiigo: they outie

\- / / DiNoScope has logged on. / / -

DiNoScope: sorry

DiNoScope: the sight of the statue was so good that

DiNoScope: my net shat itself

DiNoScope: its

DiNoScope: fucking beautiful

GodOfArrows: THEY LIKE IT

FiZone: phew! we thought you hated it

DiNoScope: what

DiNoScope: no

DiNoScope: i think its great

TForce: look at the detail you fuck

TForce: DONT PUT THE BLINDFOLD BACK ON

\--

TForce: I AFDJKf so drugnghk r1ghght n02re 

TForce: gn95thf

Vertiigo: i am the matetr og light

Vertiigo: goodybe worldjg

\- / / Vertiigo has logged out. / / -

\- / / TForce has logged out. / / -

InTheLittleWood: me two

InTheLittleWood: im as fhfddj comedic genius gg 

InTheLittleWood: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

InTheLittleWood: x

InTheLittleWood: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

\- / / InTheLittleWood has logged out. / / -

GodOfArrows: this was g8

FiZone: no more drinking for me

FiZone: i got to go pee

\- / / FiZone has logged out. / / -

DiNoScope: bye

GodOfArrows: you dont drink, do you

DiNoScope: no

GodOfArrows: thats cool

GodOfArrows: im shitfaced enough for the Thwo of us 

DiNoScope: john

GodOfArrows: yes thats me name

DiNoScope: thank you.

GodOfArrows: cheers m8

DiNoScope: <3

GodOfArrows: <3

GodOfArrows: i sent you something just now 

GodOfArrows: check your thing

DiNoScope: !

DiNoScope: you sent me an album of greatest hits

DiNoScope: based on your super trashy playlist

GodOfArrows: what

GodOfArrows: s everything a present should be

GodOfArrows: personalised

GodOfArrows: intimate

GodOfArrows: and something youve always wanted

DiNoScope: i never asked for this fucking piece of shit

GodOfArrows: you fucking love it

DiNoScope: i do

DiNoScope: which is the worst fucking part

GodOfArrows: happy birthday you motherfucker <3

DiNoScope: <3

\--

GodOfArrows: look at this cat

DiNoScope: john

GodOfArrows: yyeeeeeesssssss

DiNoScope: THATS ENOUGH CAT PICTURES

DiNoScope: STOP SENDING ME THEM

GodOfArrows: YOU CAN NEVER HAVE ENOUGH CAT PICTURES

GodOfArrows: WHY WOULD YOU DRAW AN ARROW THROUGH ITS HEAD 

GodOfArrows: :((((((((((

DiNoScope: bc that’s how i feel about cats

\--

GodOfArrows: so

GodOfArrows: what do you think of my latest masterpiece

GodOfArrows: holy shit FiZone

GodOfArrows: i only posted that two seconds ago

GodOfArrows: how are you so fast

FiZone: <3

DiNoScope: your colouring needs work

GodOfArrows: i colored between the lines this time

DiNoScope: fifty likes already

DiNoScope: itll have a thousand in an hour

GodOfArrows: you should see the fic i based it off of

DiNoScope: no 

DiNoScope: we talked about you linking me shit

FiZone: LINK ME

\--

DiNoScope: after all that work raiding

DiNoScope: i now have an alien parasite hanging out of my chest

FiZone: oh no

FiZone: were out of medkits

GodOfArrows: dude

GodOfArrows: that looks sick

InTheLittleWood: it’s making disgusting noises as it burrows into your ribs

InTheLittleWood: where’s my puke emote

InTheLittleWood: there we go

TForce: i can’t get it out

DiNoScope: that’s what flax said

GodOfArrows: some medic you are

TForce: I TRIED

TForce: DON’T JUDGE ME 

DiNoScope: well shit

GodOfArrows: any last requests before we mercy kill and pick you back up at spawn

DiNoScope: come and give me a hug

FiZone: NO

TForce: DONT INFECT US AS WELL

GodOfArrows: STAY AWAY

InTheLittleWood: FALWKGRJHKLWHGgaegaoiaeghiorlikhgb

DiNoScope: LOVE ME, DAMN YOU

\--

GodOfArrows: morning

DiNoScope: evening

GodOfArrows: i see you are in sublimation

GodOfArrows: got room for one more

DiNoScope: sure

DiNoScope: ill meet you at the house

GodOfArrows: youve done some redecorating

GodOfArrows: the sand mammoth head is new

DiNoScope: FiZone killed that one

DiNoScope: decided itd make a great wall trophy

DiNoScope: careful

DiNoScope: its really glitchy

GodOfArrows: the wall is a part of me now

GodOfArrows: as nice as that is

GodOfArrows: id like to go and kill some shit

GodOfArrows: uh

GodOfArrows: little help here

DiNoScope: you inept fuck

DiNoScope: we are both now stuck in the wall

GodOfArrows: look at us

GodOfArrows: weve fused into a majestic beast

DiNoScope: ew

DiNoScope: im not sure i like being in you

GodOfArrows: i am very nice on the inside

DiNoScope: Vertiigo

DiNoScope: come back to the house and move the mammoth head

Vertiigo: omw

Vertiigo: did you get stuck again

DiNoScope: sort of

GodOfArrows: hi

Vertiigo: WTF

GodOfArrows: this is not what it looks like

GodOfArrows: STOP CRYING ON THE FLOOR AND HELP US

Vertiigo: im in tears right now

DiNoScope: whenever youre fucking ready

Vertiigo: be free

DiNoScope: thanks

DiNoScope: about fucking time

GodOfArrows: SWEET SWEET FREEDOM

Vertiigo: let us never mention this ever again

DiNoScope: ill give you my scoped rifle if you forget this

Vertiigo: forget what

\--

GodOfArrows: yo FiZone

FiZone: panda

FiZone: where have you been

FiZone: you missed the premier episode of the ninth got season

GodOfArrows: sorry

GodOfArrows: the job took longer than i thought

GodOfArrows: im outside your ship right now

GodOfArrows: open the door pls

FiZone: :o

FiZone: you bought sandwiches from mom

GodOfArrows: mom wouldnt let me leave the house without them

GodOfArrows: ate some, btw

GodOfArrows: got hungry on the way over

FiZone: thats okay

FiZone: let me poke green and we can watch the episode together

\- / / DiNoScope has joined the chat. / / -

DiNoScope: youre late

GodOfArrows: not that late

FiZone: johns with me irl

GodOfArrows: FiZones foldout couch sucks

GodOfArrows: ow

DiNoScope: lucky for you two

FiZone: here we go

\- / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / -

FiZone: can we pause really quick

GodOfArrows: fail;hfhio;aro shit;I;

\- / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / -

DiNoScope: okay

DiNoScope: is john having a seizure of some kind

\- / / FiZone is now idle. / / -

\- / / GodOfArrows is now idle. / / -

DiNoScope: hm

\- / / FiZone is now no longer idle. / / -

FiZone: john is currently bleeding on my couch

DiNoScope: why

DiNoScope: is john bleeding

FiZone: occupational hazard

FiZone: shall we say

FiZone: johns alright now

DiNoScope: does this happen a lot

FiZone: john isnt usually this sloppy

FiZone: i might have to carry john to the hospital

FiZone: its their eye that’s doing them in

DiNoScope: you do that

FiZone: ill keep you posted

\- / / FiZone is now idle. / / -

\- / / FiZone is no longer idle. / / -

FiZone: made it!

DiNoScope: hooray

FiZone: so

FiZone: john apparently rushed all the way over after a job instead of getting their eye fixed

FiZone: the hospitals patching them up now

DiNoScope: are you telling me 

DiNoScope: john ignored medical attention

DiNoScope: to fucking watch a got episode

FiZone: yes

FiZone: dw

FiZone: i cant believe it either

DiNoScope: was it a real eye or or a prosthetic

FiZone: prosthetic, luckily

FiZone: theyre expensive but we can get a replacement done

DiNoScope: so its fine now

FiZone: they said its easily fixed

FiZone: im going to rip john a new one for making us worry

FiZone: once they wake up ofc

DiNoScope: ‘making us worry’

FiZone: i know you were worried too

FiZone: even if you dont say much

FiZone: it’s pretty telling actually bc you go even quieter

DiNoScope: i couldnt do anything to help

FiZone: you are now

FiZone: i need a shower

FiZone: i got blood all over me and my new jacket :(

DiNoScope: what size are you

FiZone: hold on

FiZone: i had to take off my jacket to check and the nurses are now giving me weird looks

FiZone: well some of them are pretty cute

FiZone: but that’s not the point

FiZone: XL

FiZone: L can’t contain my guns ;)

DiNoScope: ordered you a new jacket

DiNoScope: express delivery

DiNoScope: if its not there in two hours

DiNoScope: let me know and ill fix that

FiZone: :o

FiZone: you didnt have to do that

DiNoScope: i got money to burn

DiNoScope: and it was your birthday yesterday

FiZone: ! 

FiZone: you didn’t have to buy me a thing!

DiNoScope: you and john bought me some really cool goggles this year

DiNoScope: im repaying you for them

DiNoScope: i need to buy john something

FiZone: dont buy john sweaters

FiZone: our mom sends them to john every year

FiZone: bc they literally fall apart from john wearing them constantly

DiNoScope: you know what

DiNoScope: john is getting a new eye

FiZone: get the dahl combat MIL-N8678 one

FiZone: johns been eying that one for a week now :)

DiNoScope: ha 

DiNoScope: ha

DiNoScope: ha

DiNoScope: very funny

FiZone: maybe john will be more careful about their eye now if its from the both of us

DiNoScope: this isnt the first time

FiZone: dont tell john i told you but

FiZone: john lost their original eye in a really terrible way

DiNoScope: was it a bar fight

FiZone: LOL

FiZone: NO

FiZone: they were running with a pencil in their hand and 

DiNoScope: fell

FiZone: fell

DiNoScope: what a loser

FiZone: ikr

DiNoScope: is john awake yet

FiZone: no :(

FiZone: still passed out like the big baby they are

FiZone: the doc told me that the eyes now cleaned up though

DiNoScope: draw a face on john

FiZone: i dont have a marker

DiNoScope: ask the nurse

FiZone: i dont think the nurse will let me draw on johns face

FiZone: there goes my date tonight

DiNoScope: oh yeah, hows the love life lately

FiZone: as barren as 

FiZone: idk

FiZone: im gonna try to borrow a shower here

DiNoScope: k

\- / / FiZone is now idle. / / -

\- / / FiZone is no longer idle. / / -

DiNoScope: has the jacket arrived yet

FiZone: yeah!

FiZone: gosh its so warm and cosy

FiZone: its dahl too

FiZone: it must have cost a lot

DiNoScope: happy birthday

FiZone: <3

DiNoScope: <3

FiZone: oh yeah! 

FiZone: the eye arrived too

DiNoScope: great

FiZone: theyre putting the eye in now

FiZone: i can hear john screaming

\- / / GodOfArrows is no longer idle. / / -

GodOfArrows: i wasnt screaming!

DiNoScope: welcome back you irresponsible motherfucker

GodOfArrows: i thought the bandage would hold!

FiZone: an eyepatch doesnt work that way

GodOfArrows: i got to stay overnight for observation which sucks but at least im awake now

GodOfArrows: sorry about all this

DiNoScope: you are not dead

DiNoScope: which is the important part

FiZone: but you are now in big trouble >:(

GodOfArrows: save me pls

DiNoScope: you are on your own

FiZone: i can take it from here so green, you should go and sleep

DiNoScope: what is sleep

DiNoScope: just kidding

DiNoScope: later

\- / / DiNoScope has left. / / -

\--

GodOfArrows: you havent logged off yet

DiNoScope: how did you guess

GodOfArrows: by the power of observation

GodOfArrows: come to think of it

GodOfArrows: ive never seen you offline for more than a couple of hours

GodOfArrows: you alright

GodOfArrows: if anythings bothering you

GodOfArrows: the power of friendship will help

DiNoScope: i am doing absolutely fucking fantastic over here

GodOfArrows: dude

GodOfArrows: it was a legit question

GodOfArrows: but i think you should get some sleep

DiNoScope: i am not tired

GodOfArrows: if i knew where you lived 

GodOfArrows: id be tucking you into bed even if i have to wrestle you into it and tie you down

DiNoScope: ooh, john, please

DiNoScope: i shall sit here consumed with lust for the entire evening

DiNoScope: fantasising about it

GodOfArrows: GO TO FUCKING BED INSTEAD OF MEMEING AT ME

DiNoScope: you are really serious about this

DiNoScope: you have no power over me

DiNoScope: learn your place, mortal

GodOfArrows: you leave me no choice

\- / / FiZone has joined the chat. / / -

DiNoScope: fuck

FiZone: a little bird told me that somebody is refusing to go to bed

GodOfArrows: its for your own good

FiZone: we have placement matches tomorrow and you got to be at your best

FiZone: which you havent been

FiZone: green, will you please go to bed?

FiZone: you havent logged off in four days

DiNoScope: hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

DiNoScope: i will try

GodOfArrows: why is it when FiZone asks, you do shit right away

DiNoScope: you ordered me to bed

DiNoScope: FiZone asked nicely

DiNoScope: also, the magic word was used

DiNoScope: see you two later, i guess

\- / / DiNoScope has left the chat. / / -

\- / / DiNoScope has logged off. / / -

FiZone: are they mad bc we got so worried? :(

GodOfArrows: let them sleep it off

FiZone: :T

FiZone: alright

GodOfArrows: you worry too much

GodOfArrows: also are you done with my harlequin novel

GodOfArrows: if you really like it 

GodOfArrows: you can keep it

FiZone: >>

\--

\- / / DiNoScope has joined the chat. / / -

GodOfArrows: how do you feel now

FiZone: did you sleep well?

InTheLittleWood: everyone is now here!

TForce: im gonna queue us up now

Vertiigo: sup, we haven’t seen you in twelve hours

Vertiigo: feels weird man

FiZone: hey, we all need sleep at some point!

Vertiigo: true

DiNoScope: okay

DiNoScope: i guess

GodOfArrows: feel any different

DiNoScope: tbh, it feels weird to not be so tired

FiZone: see, you really did need sleep!

TForce: game found! folks, pick your poison, we’re going in hot!

GodOfArrows: stream’s live in five

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows and FiZone): i lied

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows and FiZone): sleep didnt help much

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows and FiZone): but maybe i do feel a little better

DiNoScope (whisper to GodOfArrows and FiZone): so thanks

GodOfArrows (whisper to FiZone and DiNoScope): <3

FiZone (whisper to GodOfArrows and DiNoScope): <3

\--

Vertiigo: i’m on dinoysus for a merc convention if anybody wants to meet up irl

GodOfArrows: im going!

FiZone: i am too!

Vertiigo: can i get a pic of you two or something?

TForce: maybe, but i need to confirm some shit first

GodOfArrows: ill send it to you later 

GodOfArrows: i got to run a job so bbl

\- / / GodOfArrows is now idle. / / -

FiZone: bam

FiZone: pic sent

Vertiigo: hold the fucking phone

Vertiigo: could it be...?

Vertiigo: SABERIAL?

Vertiigo: I’VE BEEN GAMING WITH SABERIAL THIS WHOLE FUCKING TIME

InTheLittleWood: :o

DiNoScope: :o

Vertiigo: canipleasegetanautograph

FiZone: sure, if you dont mind my chicken scratch!

InTheLittleWood: ill be there via stream!

Vertiigo: fuck yes

Vertiigo: you have no idea how happy that makes me

InTheLittleWood: will throw the details up in chat later

InTheLittleWood: bnb is about to start so ill bbl too!

\- / / InTheLittleWood is now idle. / / -

DiNoScope: im gonna check on the outpost in sublimation so bbl

FiZone: wait

\- / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / -

\--

DiNoScope: before you ask, im not going to dionysus

FiZone: well

FiZone: yes

FiZone: and no

FiZone: you said you had a ship a while back

FiZone: so i was wondering if you could

FiZone: if you wanted to, that is

FiZone: meet up irl? with john and i? at dionysus?

FiZone: if you dont want to, just say no

FiZone: we understand if youre not comfortable with that

FiZone: and we wont ask again

FiZone: it also wont stop us from being friends on here

\- / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / -

FiZone: ill leave you to think about it?

FiZone: so please let me know once youve made up your mind?

\- / / DiNoScope is now no longer idle. / / -

DiNoScope: wait

DiNoScope: i want to

DiNoScope: but

DiNoScope: i cant

DiNoScope: because

DiNoScope: how the fuck do i explain

FiZone: you dont have to tell us why!

FiZone: thank you for letting us know

DiNoScope: maybe someday

DiNoScope: just 

DiNoScope: not right now

FiZone: <3

DiNoScope: <3

\- / / GodOfArrows is no longer idle. / / -

GodOfArrows: <3

\--

Saberial cruises through the grocery store on heelies. Not just any heelies.  _ Hover heelies.  _ With racing stripe decals. The wheels exist as an optional aesthetic.

An empty, hemp woven basket (with biodegradable fibres fraying along one side) dangles from the crook of her elbow. She’s armed with a shiny shopping catalogue containing the week’s sales and bargains. All the snacks are noted with a tick and handy dandy markers on her map.

Saberial weaves in and out of other customers that absently sidestep her form as they eyed up the shelves. Other customers toss alarmed glances before throwing themselves against the shelves or risk being run over. 

The mercenary symbol on her jacket denotes her as being one, and that she is definitely not going to graciously suffer being told off to act her age. The white and black patch of a ferociously roaring bear head on her other shoulder denotes the clan she belongs to, and that she is definitely not going to graciously suffer being told off to act her age if the person wants to keep all their limbs intact after said conversation.

The less accustomed customers let their eyeballs roam after her towering form. Once they catch sight of her rank and the clan affiliation, their eyes are magnetically drawn back to the store goods.

Thanks to Saberial’s wireless earbuds, the beats of the ‘Sublimation’ instrumental soundtrack forms a barrier between the subject of gazes and the gazers. Her cruising speed: about walking, including ample time to peer along the shelves to snatch what she needs and move on, nothing to see here, plus dodge.

The list of items includes all possible snacks, basic toiletries, garlic bread (cravings and long travel times between planets simply do not mesh), rations and ammo.

Her catch of the day is a shiny, spanking new hotplate. To her immense delight, she saw it on sale, immediately grabbing not one, but three (one for herself, one for Panda since she never knows with them and the third, she can send it off to her mom).

The store is generally trafficked by an army of freelancers to always,  _ always  _ double stock said goods or risk disgruntled mercenaries. And nobody wants to deal with disgruntled mercenaries who just want a good deal for a sturdy hotplate that won’t break down after being accidentally dropped for the fifth time in the morning rush to the bounty board.

Granted, most mercenaries are mild mannered enough to inquire when it’ll be restocked. Unfortunately, they know they’ll be away from the area by then to give nothing more than a morose ‘thanks’. Some even ask if it can be delivered (and no, the store doesn’t do deliveries). Only a few unsavoury characters carried out the employee’s dreaded consequence: wanting to speak to the manager.

Same goes for snacks. Gaming and mercenary work sapped energy, almost as much as a brutal workout session. While Panda claims to never raid her pantry while they’re over, she suspects that they stealthily replaced all the pilfered items as soon as they can to avoid being noogied.

As such, Saberial ensures that there are snacks to last the both of them during a visit.

It’s basic mercenary courtesy to never nick rations or food items while they’re over at one another’s places. That sort of breach in manners could result in somebody getting punched and the unpleasant nickname of ‘snack stealer’ sticking to someone for the better part of three months. Given that mercenaries gossiped as much as any other occupation, the nickname can (and has) spread.

Not that she’s ever stolen anybody’s snacks or punched anybody for it. They might have been too intimidated by her to even try when hanging out with her. 

Especially Vertiigo and TForce. The latter is not a mercenary, fortunate to be an associate which is almost the same thing, minus the ‘getting shot at on a daily basis’ part that they stressed during introductions, plus the fact that they dealt with information of all kinds (for a modest price, discount included for friends and family). 

Perhaps Vertiigo would like the hotplate. His has been misbehaving, leaving meals partially raw. Food poisoning crops up often in a mercenary’s life that most shrugged it off and deal with the consequences  _ after  _ the job. TForce didn’t seem like they need a hotplate, professing a love for instant meals and energy drinks. She could ask TForce in chat?

She’s too busy musing on a potential recipient to notice a person stepping around the corner at the same time as her. While Saberial takes pride in her reflexes, the heelies seem resistant to sudden braking of any kind. The important part is that she tried.

Hence, she barges into the person at above average walking speed, knocking them over as she turns a tight circle. It would have given anyone with a weaker neck whiplash and a ten from skating judges.

Saberial’s switched off the shoes, dumped the shopping basket on the ground and is spewing apologies at light speed by the time the person’s head has tilted up. They see her. They freeze as if a paralysing bolt’s just hit them.

“I’m so sorry, are you hurt anywhere?” Never mind that she hadn’t been going fast enough to make them spin into a display, worry’s driving her to remain by their side rather than running off like an inconsiderate prick.

To her relief, they shake their head. Saberial has the impression that she’s being stared at through the tinted lens of their goggles. The goggles stir up a memory from the bottom of her cluttered mind.

Any veteran mercenary knows to invest in a decent pair of goggles for most situations, whether it’s from trekking about on planets suffering from volatile weather or orbiting bodies, to an outing for fun involving hailstones. 

She’d argued with Panda over whether to gift a pair to Green for Mercenary Day. The two of them had finally agreed on a twin set newly released by Dahl. Plain in appearance and yet, a tiny chrome plate with ‘X-459’ on the side indicated that it's the latest in the line.

Saberial and Panda had pored over the specs for two solid weeks. Of course, it’s everything proof, could be dropped from over a thousand metres and yet, would emerge from it with nary a scratch and in need of just a wipe with a damp, lint free cloth. All the usual makings of a decent pair of goggles. The only difference is that the X-459 set featuring eye-tracking technology.

Mercenaries gossiped. Mercenaries didn’t just hate using ECHO devices, they  _ loathed _ it _ ,  _ preferring hands-free options of communication. That made sense, considering that both hands are busy holding a gun and firing back. 

And so, Dahl figured that they should merge one of their highest selling accessories with a top sought-after feature: the ability to link to an ECHO device to allow just about every communication feature under the sun. Most importantly, one could type using their eyes, including programming in shorthands and emotes.

Green had loved the set. The set had been expensive enough that Saberial and Panda had slogged through a month’s worth of extra jobs to afford the twin set (thankfully, Dahl adored the ‘one for the price of two’ deal).

Only a handful of people could walk around wearing the X-459 goggles. Saberial could have been mistaken. If she is, she’ll know about it in a second.

“Green?” She breathes, her hand inches away from their shoulder. A bystander’s bewildered expression flashes to one of ‘you’re in serious need of help in the mental department’. At the steely flick of her eyes, they scuttle off to deal with ‘important business’.

A hand floats up, gloved fingers flexing out her name letter by letter, agonisingly so, “FiZone?”

“Wait, tell me what happened in the last game we played, so I know it’s really you,” Saberial hastily proposes. They could be a fan who'd waited to run into her. It’s happened before. It usually ended well. Usually. She can count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times she’d had to dump someone’s body into a dumpster for being a creep.

The person gives her what feels to be a dry look, both hands signing quickly, “John accidentally shot me in the ass, you all laughed your heads off and then I spent the rest of the session fighting off sepsis.”

“It is  _ you _ .” Saberial can’t help but laugh. That had been a fun night; it’s not often that Green fucks up but when they did, it's spectacular.

The person in front of her steps into the mental blank space she’s had of them ever since she first met them. Green had never so much as shown a hair of themself, preferring to let imaginations run rampant in regards to their appearance.

Granted, Saberial doesn’t like throwing her own identity out there unless it’s amongst close friends. Green definitely qualifies as a ‘close friend’, perhaps even as a ‘best friend’. She assumes that it’s also the case for them.

“I think these are yours,” Green signs, one hand passing over her basket that’d upended. They rise, dusting themself off. As tall as Saberial is, Green has several centimetres on her, featuring a less impressive, lithe build; she could probably pick them up and carry them for well over a hundred metres without breaking a sweat.

“Forget about groceries, let's get something to eat!” Saberial practically bounces onto her feet, grabbing the basket with a half a mind to lob it aside. Only the thought of the hotplates stop her. “On second thought, I should buy the hotplates, at least.” She properly peers at Green, her eyes meeting a lanky form layered in at least two jackets and cloth covering every bit of skin as if they’re allergic to the sun. “You’re not getting anything from the store?” There’s no basket that they’d dropped in sight.

“No.” Green proceeds to awkwardly admit, “I walked in here by accident. The game shop is next door.” They slouch, watching her carefully. “I know a pretty good ramen place, though. That is, if you like ramen.”

She thinks about offering to buy them something. Is that getting too friendly all of the sudden? Maybe next time, then. “Sure,” She accepts, grinning.

Ten minutes later, she’s paid for the groceries and stashed the hotplates in her inventory, striding after Green as they head down an alley. The city they’re both standing in is renowned for crowding, also known as cramming as many people and whatever they needed to live in floors stacked up on one another.

All in all, there’s about five floors, each spreading over the planet, an urban lichen assimilating with the rest of the planet’s naturally humid biosphere that constantly smelled of scarce rain. Jungles teeming with dying wildlife dominated the part of the planet that people had left in the name of keeping something lush around to prevent Maliwan’s environmental officers imposing on the natural order where manmade structures dominated with an iron fist.

Green halts in front of a discrete doorway, the aged frame patchy with stains. Lines (tallies, she realises) mar it, running from the top all the way to the bottom where the wood met the concrete floor. Thin, wispy clouds of white-grey smoke billow out from within, giving off an impression of a madman’s volatile distillery (or Panda’s kitchen post-cooking). 

“Here.” Green nods. The place has no visible name or logo, telling her that anybody who wants to eat here came by word of mouth or random happenstance.

“Lead the way in!” Saberial brightly says, holding back her the mild apprehension at the tiny restaurant. Appearances aren’t everything, she reminds herself. Look at who she’s following around.

Missing her hesitance, Green steps in, ducking in under the merry red and yellow banner hanging off two threads plastered over the top of the doorway. The two of them entering don’t earn much turning of heads.

There’s only two other customers, each bent over a steaming, chipped porcelain bowl. Wooden chopsticks eagerly dip in and out, lifting what turns to be noodles up to their mouths. The color of the noodles remind her of the lush cornfield that’s her current wallpaper, bright yellow cobs with every raised kernel basking in the sun. 

Envying the sight, Saberial takes a seat next to Green at the low wooden counter. Condiment bottles have gathered in a drove to pen her arms in. Green filches a menu from a stack, handing it to her. The menu is filled with items that she would absolutely love to wolf down on a day where she’s starving. She has to squint to make sense of the blurry pictures. The layout is not very intuitive; working out what the prices are for what item takes her extra seconds.

Green taps at the back of the menu to get her attention. She holds it out, only for them to tap at one of the items. A special, from the looks of it. It’s also marked with several icons of fire that’d be right at home in a home-made documentary about arsonists.

“That one will make you weep tears of joy.” Is that a grin she can detect in Green’s words? She reckons it is, based on the fluid motions of their hands. “If you want to dare try it, that is.” If Green thinks she’s not up to eating something that devilish, they’re about to have their mind blown.

“I’d like to place an order for that one,” She confidently orders, very much wanting to weep tears of joy over ramen. 

“You sure?” Green mockingly signs.

“I'm sure.” Saberial isn’t sure if she can hit them in the shoulder or not, settling for giving them a look. The chef on the other side of the counter grins in anticipation of another customer about to run and dunk their head in the conveniently located sink outside the stand. “Ah, I’d like a beer to go with that, please.” A cheap albeit worthwhile beer materialises and is pushed over at her. The chef hadn’t even stepped away from their pots and pans. The fridge is located a metre away, bowing under the weight of laden shelves.

“Have you ever had it?” Saberial asks Green when she cracks open the beer she’s ordered. It hisses, a sound that’s music to hear ears. It’s wonderfully chilled, with a fruity kick. Condensation dribbles over fingers to collect on the counter. “Want a drink? I’ll for it.”

“No to both, but I’ve seen the reactions,” Green signs, one hand resting on the counter. “Can I get a bowl to go? The usual.” That part is directed at the chef, who looks up.

“You brought a friend this time,” The chef observes, nodding at Saberial. A leathered face reddened by steam cracks into an even bigger grin. “You want a stamp?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.” From their pocket, Green extracts a card about to split in half, sliding it over. The momentary glimpse she catches hint at an army of maroon stamps plastering one side.

The chef pauses in their doling out of broth into a bowl. “Where’s my stamp,” They mutter, leaving the ladle dangling on a hook above their head to hunt through their pockets. After a minute, a tiny stamp is clamped in between their oversized fingers (with the nails bitten down to the cuticles). The chef squints, carefully pressing the ink-stained end onto the grid. “You’re only one stamp away from a free meal!” They cheerfully inform Green.

“Can I get her stamp?” Green slyly gestures to Saberial.

“I don’t know, it’s one stamp per meal per customer,” The chef muses. “Maybe if you ordered a hot bowl too, I’ll happily reconsider…” They trail off expectantly.

“I’ve been eating here for over a year, even on rainy days, you cretin,” Green mock-grumbles via irritated, exaggerated flicks of their fingers and wrists. The chef watches their hands, still grinning. Green gives in, adding, “Fine, give me a hot bowl.”

“Now that’s more like it,” The chef says in approval, turning to Saberial as they pick up their ladle. “You know, I’ve been trying to get this moocher to try a hot bowl ever since they first showed up out of nowhere.”

“And I’ve returned daily since,” huffs Green. “That’s a bowl to go, by the way. I’m not giving you the satisfaction of watching me be in pain.”

“Aye, that takes the fun out of it then,” The chef laments with a dramatic sigh that makes Saberial giggle. “Here you go, one spicy…” The rest of the sentence is lost from the roar of air traffic above their heads, causing the banners to whip up and down in a frenzy and the windows noisily rattle, leaping in their loose frames. Someone curses from sloshing noodles and broth down their front.

A bowl is set down in front of Saberial. She snaps her chopsticks in half, taking a second to relish the satisfying crack of breaking wood, bending over the bowl to inhale the alluring scent emanating from it. The chef watches her with sharp eyes, clearly awaiting her appraisal. So is Green, who has the decency to seem relaxed about it.

Sweet mother of- she could breath this scent in for  _ days _ and not tire of it. It could even revive her from the brink of death.

The merest whiff of it brings tears to her eyes, not just from the steam but from the warring aromas of at least two spices. Paper-thin flakes of scandalously cooked meat (achieving raw and not-raw status) are languidly sprawled on top of a mountain of soaking, mustard-yellow strings of noodles. A snowcap of fresh, crudely chopped chives tumbling and rolling down tops the noodles and meat.

The broth itself is a modest brown and yellow color, clear with patterns of pleasing circles that come and go. The first mouthful is practically bursting with a mild flavor that she’s never experienced before. It washes over her tastebuds to saturate them, pleasant and surprising.

The noodles are soft, a delicacy to behold when all she’s ever had to sample were noodles of the instant kind. An unsuspecting piece of meat is chewed up and swallowed, chewable and just as soft as the noodles.

She gives Green and the chef a look of disbelief. And that’s when the blaze begins, seizing the moment after the sneak attack that’d cleansed her mouth of all other interference to her tastebuds.

The spices have dropped a fucking nuke in her mouth. It scorches all the way to the back of her head, through her nose; it feels like someone’s punched the back of her eyeballs, what is this  _ hell _ that tastes so  _ good _ .

As it strips the lining from her tongue, Saberial is so sure that her tongue resembles a shrivelled bit of muscle. It’s not, once she’s tested her capacity to register pain by driving an incisor into it. She gets a feeble salute from her tastebuds. Still alive and kicking? Excellent, because here comes the second mouthful.

Saberial washes down the lot with the rest of her beer, plunking the can down besides it. “Finished!” She declares to one smug Green and the bewildered chef.

“You have the honor of being the first person to not cry while eating that,” The stunned chef informs her in a hushed voice. “Clearly, I have been bested!” They howl, throwing down the label and shocking the other two customers into upsetting their bowls (one of them screams). “I must revise my recipe!”

“No, I think it’s great how it is!” Saberial hastily intervenes. “I want a card.”

“I’ll give you all the cards if you tell me what’s missing!” The chef continues, thumping the counter with both hands, eyes blazing.

“It’s not missing anything!”

“Lies!”

After fifteen minutes of persuading the chef to not quit and promising to come back to try to their revised recipe, Saberial and Green are able to leave. Green is carrying a wooden box, their ramen secure inside of it. They are silent. 

Saberial is immersed in figuring out if she’s done any permanent damage to her tongue by eating that much spicy food in one go. “I can’t feel my tongue,” She admits, dismayed that it’s taking longer to return from the dead.

“You’ll be fine. I think,” Green signs with the hand that’s not carrying the box.

“Thanks for introducing me to that place, it was delicious,” Saberial says, hoping that Green can hear her through the damage.

“You liked it?” Green’s head tilts to survey her with what’s probably surprise. “I didn’t think you’d actually get the special, what with the body count.” That would explain the doorframe’s markings.

“When you live with John, you learn to like the hot food or bring your own food to eat,” Saberial reveals. “And John doesn’t settle for anything that’s less than ‘makes you want to scrape your own tongue off with a cheese grater’.”

“We should come back here with John at some point. They’d probably like that place then.”

“I don’t think John’s that free now, ever since John moved up the ranks,” Saberial sighs. She brightens, though. “We could do this again if you want.”

Green turns their head so sharply that their lens flashing in the streetlight almost causes her to leap back in reflex.

“I’d think that nobody ever asked you hang out before!” Saberial laughs, leaning over to steady the box in Green’s hand. “Mind your ramen, you wouldn’t want it to leak out.”

“Yeah. We wouldn’t,” Green signs after a pause. They add, “I know a bunch of other places around here that we can hit up next time.”

“You sure don’t look like you do,” Saberial teases, referring to Green’s frame. She claps a hand over their shoulder, forgetting whether or not they allowed it- wow, that must be bone under all that fabric. “I’ll let you know when I'm free.” In a softer tone, she adds, “It was nice meeting you in person, Green.”

“See you,” Green signs, vanishing down a street into the depths of the city. 

Saberial watches them merge with the shadows, approving of the way they seamlessly do so that most mercenaries lusted after (including her and Panda). Only if mercenaries chopped their feet off and replaced them with pillows would the same effect be achieved.

Right, she’ll be tasting that broth for a  _ week _ . Until then, it’s only the blandest of foods. Panda won’t believe it until they’ve tried the ramen themself so Saberial resolves to drag them to the ramen stand at the first chance.

\--

DiNoScope: so

DiNoScope: i regret life

FiZone: :o

FiZone: how are the noodles?

DiNoScope: i

DiNoScope: fucking hate spicy shit

DiNoScope: they are now fucking banned from my ship

FiZone: WEAK

DiNoScope: STFU

DiNoScope: ive had to take off my goggles

DiNoScope: youve brought me to tears 

FiZone: pics or it didnt happen ;)

DiNoScope: fuck u

FiZone: only if youre a cute chick under all that

DiNoScope: im dead

DiNoScope: unless youre into that 

DiNoScope: which is fucking gross

DiNoScope: and not what i expected of you

DiNoScope: when you seemed to be a such a nice person

FiZone: I AM NOT

DiNoScope: hide all the dead bodies from FiZone

DiNoScope: theyre a corpse fucker

FiZone: YOU SHIT

DiNoScope: indeed

DiNoScope: everybody does shit

DiNoScope: id be concerned if you didnt

FiZone: YOU ARE MISSING THE POINT

FiZone: at least i can eat spicy things without dying, so there!

DiNoScope: well not everybody is blessed with tastebuds of steel

\--

DiNoScope: FiZone

DiNoScope: you there

FiZone: no

FiZone: this is john btw

DiNoScope: get off FiZones account, you ass

FiZone: shes in the bathroom

FiZone: drowning in the shower

FiZone: from the sounds of it

DiNoScope: oh

DiNoScope: should i bbl

FiZone: shes just sad about her date bailing on her

FiZone: im just trying to find out who

FiZone: got it

FiZone: they seem nice from the profile pic

FiZone: not nice enough to escape me asking why they bailed though

DiNoScope: please break their legs

FiZone: nah shed rip me a new one if i did that

FiZone: i need you to distract her while i dig for info

DiNoScope: wtf do you want me to do

DiNoScope: what did you just send me

DiNoScope: its hell isnt it

FiZone: a fun place

FiZone: take her out!

FiZone: cheer her up, obvs

DiNoScope: you owe me

FiZone: ;)

FiZone: this conversation never happened

DiNoScope: what conversation

\- / / FiZone is now idle. / / -

\- / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / -

\- / / FiZone is no longer idle.//

FiZone: green!

FiZone: sorry

FiZone: i was in the shower

FiZone: i see johns already left

FiZone: theyd better not have stolen any of my snacks again

\- / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / -

DiNoScope: hey

DiNoScope: want to go out

DiNoScope: i know a great place

DiNoScope: its only open at night after 2300 though

DiNoScope: theres dancing involved

DiNoScope: which you like

FiZone: :o

FiZone: what place?

FiZone: and what kind of dancing?

DiNoScope: i am glad you asked

\--

Saberial picks at her leather jacket. She’s borrowing it from Panda, seeing as hers is in for the repairs, a result of a particularly nasty duel involving a rusty pipe and a stiletto from intervening between exes from her last job. 

Panda is shorter than her, albeit broader around their midriff. The jacket squeezes her shoulders and arms whenever she stretches her arms up high. She tries not to move so much in the jacket to avoid tearing it (and causing Panda to throw a hissy fit if their jacket came back damaged).

She throws wary glances up and down the street, trying not to fidget too much. Forget civvies, she’ll take her set of mercenary gear any day.

For now, it’s jeans, the usual combat boots, a tacky leather jacket and a garish t-shirt that she hopes is passable. Her short hair’s not a frizzy mess, thanks to the generous lathering of hair gel (discovered languishing at the back of her near-empty bathroom cabinet). Her digistruct modules are concealed on her belt, under the hem of the t-shirt. At some point, she should probably invest in better civvies that don't make her feels like she’s running about naked.

At exactly 3100, a lone shape detaches from an alley, striding towards her with a confidence she can only admire. That outline would be familiar to her in a crowd: Green. Saberial lifts a hand in greeting, pleased to see them. The knot of nervous excitement tightens in her gut. Accepting their invite had been a spur of the moment decision, one that she’s still not sure about.

Green isn’t wearing mercenary gear either, having dressed down for the occasion too. Jeans and boots, except replace the jacket with a hoodie. The goggles and cloth hiding their face are in place, as always. Not a single wrap is out of place.

Saberial stifles the impulse to ask them how long it took to get dressed in the morning or if they bothered to look classy under there.

The hands they raise to casually sign are clothed in fingerless gloves. A grey material encases their fingers, preventing Saberial from noting any bare skin whatsoever. “Sup.”

“Are we too late?” Saberial can’t see any sign of the place they’re headed to. After half a year of casually hitting up every food place with them, there’s very little she doesn’t trust Green with.

The street they’re loitering in is devoid of other life, save for two randy cats determined to have three litters at once. She tries to block the yowls out, focusing on Green’s hands. While Green’s been giving her lessons in signing (with the translation software disabled), they still have to repeat themself sometimes for her benefit.

“Nope. It’s about to open.” Already, Green’s leading the way down another street, appearing to follow directions that make no sense to her. Saberial hastens to follow, her hand posted at her hip to draw a gun if need be.

Ten minutes later, Saberial is standing in a queue besides Green. The queue shuffles forward. As far as the eye can see, Saberial notes that people are lining up to enter, the end wrapping around the block. The bouncer is a lady who could give Saberial a proper throwdown, eyeing them up as she and Green step forward. After nodding to Saberial, the bouncer thrusts an arm out to stop Green following.

“It’s  _ fashionable _ nonbinaries and women only,” The bouncer warns in a voice that would have been right at home threatening someone that they’re about to lose their front teeth and nose.

“Excuse me bitch, I think I'm nonbinary and fashionable enough to fucking get in,” Green signs back, exaggerating the ‘nonbinary’ part.

“They’re with me,” Saberial quickly says as the bouncer’s eyes narrow. Of all the times for Green to mouth off (er, sign off), this is not one of them. “Please?” She drops her voice to as low as possible (not a particularly worthy achievement, given how low it is in the first place), injecting a coyness to it. A matching smile follows. It makes her face hurt. She’s much more used to glowering to get her way (and there’s a certain time and place for it).

“Hmph, fine.” The bouncer allows them to pass, with a sharp glare directed at Green. “You stay out of trouble.” Saberial grabs Green’s hand to stop them from flipping off the bouncer, dragging them into the bar.

They are both greeted by a staggering blast of music, plus an assortment of whistling and cheering as the previous song fades out. It’s replaced by a song that makes Saberial want to simultaneously dance and plug her ears up.

“What is this place?” She has to shout at Green to be heard. Green cocks their head. She imagines them grinning. It certainly seems like it. The atmosphere doesn’t seem to faze them in the slightest; if anything, they seem right at home here.

“It’s ‘Ladies Night’,” Green cheekily signs. “I’ll be your wingperson tonight.” They don’t mention how John knows about this place (and spent five minutes suggesting escalating jabs until John had revealed that they’d only needed the bathroom; more crude jokes at John’s expense had continued from that point on).

Everywhere Saberial looks, there are  _ people _ . Very attractive people, at that. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d be at a club, scoping out people and being scoped in return. Before she can let it sink in and back out once her self-consciousness kicks in, Green is already tugging her by the arm in the direction of the dating section.

Saberial digs her feet in, causing them to stop and peer at her. People step around them. “Wait!”

“You don’t want to date?” Green pauses. “We can go and tear up the dance floor instead.” They tap their digistruct module (tucked into their belt under the hoodie) with a finger. “Sadly, I don’t have any power tools on me right now to do that as effectively as I hope to.”

Okay, that earns a startled laugh. “I don’t think that’s what the saying means.” Saberial glances at all the people lining up to enter the dating section. Look at all these hapless fools hoping to find their true love (or loves) tonight, and she’s one of them. 

“No?” It’s kind of adorable (dare she say it) how Green seems annoyed by their inability to grasp the gist of sayings without taking them literally. “John is a fucking liar.”

“I think John’s trolling you.” There’s a more pressing and immediate concern on her mind. She nervously chuckles, leaning in close to Green, whispering worriedly, “What if I can’t find a date because they find out I’m a mercenary?”

Green contemplates the question for a moment. They end up shrugging, sounding awfully calm in comparison to the jitters currently tap dancing all over Saberial’s nerves. “It’s speed dating. They won’t have time to find out, not unless you do mention it.’

“I’ve never done this before,” Saberial adds, the jitters having migrated to her stomach and are currently cheerfully demolishing the foundations there. “Green, go in with me.”

While she feels a tad guilty about dragging them in with her, coming here had been their idea in the first place. So it’s kind of justified that they should join in too, right? Still, it doesn’t seem like Green’s usual sort of activity. They’d probably prefer shutting themself up in their ship (or wherever they lived) with a good pvp game right now.

Their answer floors her. “Alright,” Green casually signs.

“You’d really do that?” Saberial looks Green up and down. She’d honestly expected them to bail out on her. In her mind, dating and Green just didn’t go together, as with John and sweet chilli sauce (that weak sauce is for scrubs, according to John).

“Not for me. For you.” Green shrugs again. “I know enough about you to get you some numbers and if not, I can bullshit it.”

Just so she’s clear on the subject (and her curiosity refuses to drop it), Saberial blurts, “Have you ever done this before?”

“No,” Green somehow signs cheerfully as a woman bearing a clipboard strides over to take their names down for the session. 

“Is it allowed?”

“Well, I don’t give a fuck, it’s for you.”

Saberial tentatively takes the offered sticker, scrawling her name in what she hopes passes for ‘decipherable chickenscratch’ at a glance. The name tag is carefully pasted onto her jacket (and she hopes the glue won’t leave marks). 

A glance to the left confirms that Green scrawled well, ‘Green’ on their own tag. Oh, that’s right, ’Green’ wouldn’t be their real name, not unless their parents happened to be unimaginative folks. 

Someday, Saberial hopes that she and Green will be comfortable enough with one another to call each other by their names. So far, Green’s only been calling her by ‘FiZone’, though she wouldn’t have minded them using ‘Saberial’.

The woman begins to round up stragglers, directing people into place. Before they’re hustled away, Green gestures, “Good luck.”

Well, here goes nothing.

Time flies. That’s the only way of putting it, really. Saberial blinks as the end of the half an hour long session is announced; the woman she’s talking to grins, dipping a hand into their purse to withdraw a card with a number written on it. An obvious wink (underneath all that eyeliner) accompanies it. 

“Bye,” Saberial barely says in time as the woman sashays away. Saberial boggles at the card. Five of them have found their way onto her table as the night wore on.

It’d been a whirlwind of faces, questions, nervous laughter and mindless chatter, but she’d had  _ fun.  _ Saberial reaches for the cards, stacking them together with a clack. Each of them bear a phone number. Each of them are  _ hers  _ to call, at her leisure.

It makes her feel all mushy, her insides infused with a warmth that only chocolates with the crunchy, hazelnut centres or a hand knitted sweater from mom could bestow. She could swim in this feeling forever. Hell, she could  _ marinate _ in it.

Green takes the woman’s seat. “So?” Green casually asks, indicating the cards.

“Five,” Saberial proudly reports. Not once had she mentioned that she’d been a mercenary.

The nervousness had taken a hike once she’d gotten into the swing of the event. Plus, the other parties had seemed just as nervous as her; together, she and them fumbled around common questions before talk eased into neutral, enjoyable topics (like cats and books).

“Not bad,” Green compliments. Saberial glances at their hands. They don’t appear to have any cards on them. 

“What about you?” In response, five cards are spawned and tossed onto her pile. That makes ten people are interested in her.  _ Ten. _

“They wanted to know more about you than me, considering our entrance.” That’s surprisingly modest coming from Green, a person who instantly snagged credit for all and any killstealing. Or any inflammatory deed, really.

“Oh yeah, you’re not looking for anyone,” Saberial recalls. “Too much of a career, right?”

“You could say that,” Green vaguely signs before adding impatiently, “Come on, it’s happy hour.”

The two of them relocate to the bar, finding two free seats in the window. Outside, the queue is still shuffling forward. It amazes her that this many people could fit into a former warehouse. The owners must be setting some new record here, or are trying for it.

At Green’s nudging, Saberial indulges in her sweet tooth rather than an adult vice, ordering an ice cream float. Beer feels too much of a crime to order in this place, not when she can see fancy glasses and cocktails topped with all manner of fruit and glitz bobbing amongst the crowd.

Green floats off to submit her order. Saberial watches them vanish amongst grinding bodies without disturbing the flow. Actually, it’s kind of unnerving how they did that, coming and going as silently as they pleased.

Looking around, there’s enough alcohol flowing to flood a stadium up to its roof. There’s certainly enough loud music to deafen an airport. There’s definitely enough people here to make a small town to consider upgrading to ‘city’ status.

Only at a time like this can Saberial feel the need for a bit of peace and quiet in spite of the upbeat atmosphere. This is really not her cup of tea, so to speak (and she could really do with one). The whole place smells of charred smoke from the packed steakhouse upstairs. She could really do with one, her stomach refusing any dinner before the outing.

When she looks over, a lady’s stolen Green’s seat. Saberial is about to tell them that the seat is taken, stopping herself to stare instead. She can’t help it, captivated by eyes of glacial ice. Her staring attracts a cursory glance.

“Sorry, I should have asked-” The lady moves to leave, looking sheepish. Their accent makes Saberial want to make them read a dictionary to her; it’s  _ adorable. _

“No, it’s fine! My friend’s just gone off to get drinks.” Saberial nods at the bar struggling to keep up with orders, the robotic bartenders moving at lightspeed to dispense drinks. “So they’ll be a while.” Hopefully the lady will get the hint. The lady makes herself comfortable, smiling at her. Saberial’s heart does a somersault.

“So, what brings you here?” The lady asks, casting an interested look over Saberial.

Saberial grins. Not too nervously or smugly to scare her off, she hopes. “You’re not going to believe this, but…” Green passes by, dropping off her drink before climbing up to the dj’s booth. 

Saberial doesn’t notice that or the shift in music to one of her favourite bands. Huh, the root beer tastes more like soda topped with ice cream. She had specified beer; perhaps Green or the bartender got the order wrong.

Never mind, she’s having a fantastic time exploring hers and the lady’s taste in books.

\--

GodOfArrows: mission successful

GodOfArrows: hold your applause

DiNoScope: mission also successful

GodOfArrows: shall we share debriefings

DiNoScope: sure

GodOfArrows: you first

DiNoScope: she got about twelve numbers in total

DiNoScope: didnt get drunk either

DiNoScope: i made sure of that

DiNoScope: she danced as well

GodOfArrows: did you make sure of that

DiNoScope: i made sure the music was appropriate

DiNoScope: the dj proved happy to comply with a gun to their head

GodOfArrows: im surprised you didnt get banned

DiNoScope: kidding

DiNoScope: a fifty made them pretty open to requests

DiNoScope: she wanted to leave after four hours

GodOfArrows: and then what happened

DiNoScope: we went out for ice cream

GodOfArrows: what kind

GodOfArrows: details pls

DiNoScope: she had vanilla

DiNoScope: i made sure of that

GodOfArrows: FUCK i wasnt expecting that

DiNoScope: not to brag but i call that a rousing success

GodOfArrows: oh yeah

GodOfArrows: mines better

DiNoScope: you can’t top ice cream

GodOfArrows: maybe you do have a point

GodOfArrows: you know what

GodOfArrows: i bet i can get her more numbers than you

DiNoScope: do we really want to turn this into a pissing contest

GodOfArrows: i will if i have to

GodOfArrows: to make her happy

DiNoScope: next ladies night is in two weeks

DiNoScope: loser has to play the robot in underguard for all ranked matches for a weekend

GodOfArrows: thats weak 

GodOfArrows: the loser has to play the robot in underguard for a week straight

GodOfArrows: thats better

DiNoScope: youre on

\--

FiZone: you two can stop that

DiNoScope: what

GodOfArrows: what

DiNoScope: what could you be on about

GodOfArrows: yeah

GodOfArrows: what could you be on about

FiZone: don’t think i havent noticed you two trying to get me to go out to ladies night again

GodOfArrows: i had fun

DiNoScope: me too

FiZone: i know that you two have been trying to find me a date for two months now

FiZone: and its getting ridiculous

DiNoScope: lies

GodOfArrows: and slander

FiZone: STOP FINISHING EACH OTHER’S SENTENCES

DiNoScope: we are not

GodOfArrows: finishing each others sentences

FiZone: i swear to 

FiZone: look

FiZone: i am going to take a break from the dating thing

FiZone: its been nice getting to know all these people

FiZone: esp minty

FiZone: but i am tired of hiding what i do for a living and i want someone who is more than okay with that

FiZone: itll happen someday

FiZone: but now is not the time bc the universe doesn’t want me to have a girlfriend

FiZone: so you two can stop

FiZone: i get that youre trying to help

FiZone: im sorry if im sound ungrateful

FiZone: but its been bothering me for a while now

DiNoScope: im going to have to stop you right there.

GodOfArrows: yeah, FiZone, stop

DiNoScope: well stop.

GodOfArrows: you should have said so sooner!

GodOfArrows: you dont have to apologise either

DiNoScope: what john said

DiNoScope: we just dont want you to feel that 

DiNoScope: fuck

DiNoScope: john, you can tell her

DiNoScope: i suck at this shit

GodOfArrows: thats not the only thing you suck

FiZone: get a room

DiNoScope: fuck off

GodOfArrows: we just dont want you to feel that you’re not 

GodOfArrows: any less of a person

GodOfArrows: basically

GodOfArrows: bc you happen to be a merc

GodOfArrows: and they dont know what they’re missing out on

GodOfArrows: thats all we wanted to tell you

GodOfArrows: so talk to us if you’re feeling down

\- / / FiZone is now idle. / / -

GodOfArrows: someone is knocking on my ship door

GodOfArrows: brb

\- / / GodOfArrows is now idle. / / -

DiNoScope: this is going to be good

\- / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / -

\- / / GodOfArrows is no longer idle. / / -

\- / / FiZone is no longer idle. / / -

FiZone: thank you

FiZone: <3

GodOfArrows: she hugged me, not punched me, green

GodOfArrows: sorry to ruin your expectations

GodOfArrows: <3

\- / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / -

DiNoScope: <3

\--

FiZone: did you see that starship explosion in the news?

InTheLittleWood: that was horrible

InTheLittleWood: about three thousand people died

Vertiigo: it’s just popped up on the news here

GodOfArrows: they’re still looking for people

GodOfArrows: ive dropped about fifty grand for donations already

Vertiigo: me too

FiZone: same

InTheLittleWood: im gonna donate once i get paid

InTheLittleWood: every little bit helps

\- / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / -

DiNoScope: whats going on

FiZone: there you are!

GodOfArrows: a starship exploded just outside of hecate

GodOfArrows: it was carrying about three thousand people

GodOfArrows: you could see the explosion from the moons

FiZone: theyre still trying to find survivors who might have crashed onto the planet

FiZone: its terrible

FiZone: maliwan is running an investigation

\- / / TForce is no longer idle. / / -

TForce: hey

TForce: my inside sources says it might have been because maliwan was testing a new engine that hadn’t cleared safety checks

FiZone: :o

FiZone: really?

InTheLittleWood: that’s shameful

Vertiigo: maliwan’s head of R and D is on the news right now on channel 1345 if you want to tune in

Vertiigo: it’s full of fucking lies

Vertiigo: there’s no way that it was just an accident

TForce: yeah

TForce: maliwan is usually top of the line for engine testing

GodOfArrows: maliwan’s stocks have taken a massive dump

GodOfArrows: might be a good time to get some maliwan guns 

FiZone: how can you think about guns at a time like this!

GodOfArrows: shit that wasnt what i meant

GodOfArrows: maliwan is doing sales

GodOfArrows: 10% of profits go towards a fund for the families and shit

FiZone: oh

FiZone: sorry

\- / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / -

GodOfArrows: green?

\- / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / -

DiNoScope: sorry

DiNoScope: im looking at the news right now

DiNoScope: thanks for the link, Vertiigo

Vertiigo: cheers mate

DiNoScope: i just put in a donation

GodOfArrows: how much

FiZone: thats nice of you!

DiNoScope: im not telling you

GodOfArrows: why not

GodOfArrows: we told you ours!

InTheLittleWood: spill, man!

DiNoScope: you sure you want to know

DiNoScope: it's more than what the three of you combined donated

FiZone: so

FiZone: one hundred and fifteen something?

TForce: A MILLION DOLLARS JUST CAME IN FROM AN ANON

TForce: is that you

TForce: it fucking is

TForce: there's a smiley face in the message box

TForce: AND YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T WANT TO BUY ME ANYTHING FOR MY BIRTHDAY YOU CHEAPSKATE

DiNoScope: i bought you the gold plated mouse you ungrateful fuck

DiNoScope: which i know youre using right now

TForce: YOU COULD HAVE BOUGHT ME TWO GOLD MICE

TForce: TWO

TForce: TWO I TELL YOU

FiZone: green?

FiZone: are you secretly an oil baron

DiNoScope: yes

FiZone: really?

DiNoScope: no

DiNoScope: im too skinny to be one

DiNoScope: :(

GodOfArrows: guess how much i donated just now

TForce: five dollars

GodOfArrows: you are correct!

FiZone: do you lot want to do a stream to raise donations?

FiZone: a lot of people in our group think it’s a great idea!

FiZone: provided you are all on board

InTheLittleWood: im in

Vertiigo: maliwan’s R and D can go fuck themself

Vertiigo: i'm back now

Vertiigo: A MILLION DOLLARS

Vertiigo: SHIT

Vertiigo: DRINKS ARE ON GREEN NEXT TIME

DiNoScope: you are all in need of intervention

DiNoScope: you raging alcoholics

\--

DiNoScope: dont message me

DiNoScope: im gonna try sleeping

GodOfArrows: not even to say hi

DiNoScope: no

GodOfArrows: :(

GodOfArrows: its cool

GodOfArrows: g2g to sneak my stuff out of my old bedroom

GodOfArrows: dont want to run into my mom or family

GodOfArrows: theyre so nosy

DiNoScope: must be nice having a family

GodOfArrows: lol no

GodOfArrows: anyway

GodOfArrows: see you later

DiNoScope: later

\--

HybridPanda peers over the dossier at the other mercenary. The other mercenary is an aunt who traveled all the way from from out of the system just to present a distant relative with a potential job. Panda skims the text with a disinterested eye while idly scratching at the skin located underneath their eyepatch. 

“So, your mam tells me you’re bored of being a merc,” The aunt notes. Panda’s already forgotten their name, thanks to a family tree allowed to shoot out in every possible direction. When Panda looks up at her, cool disapproval meets them.

To piss off this aunt or not to piss off this aunt? Panda’s been dodging phone calls from mother dearest about rumors of their latest aspirations. When one inherited a stubborn streak from not one, but both parents, attempts to remain civil flew out the window. 

Mom probably sent this aunt to try to talk them out of quitting. Quitting is not what Panda has in mind. Mom erroneously assumes that’s the case.

“Yeah, I am,” Panda lightly confirms, copying the dossier into their inventory with a tap of their HUD. They hand back the dossier, hoisting their bandolier higher up their shoulder.

“Not many choose to quit this early.” She’s thrown off by Panda’s admission, judging from a split second of surprise that’s immediately masked by neutrality. The dossier is tossed into a canvas bag waiting at her feet. “Especially given your reputation.”

“My reputation’s fine,” Panda dismisses. “It might even work out in my favor with where I'm going,” They cryptically add, deliberately baiting.

“And what career would willingly accept a former merc?” The jab at mercenaries attempting to fit in other places irritates in spite of the neutral look Panda has.

“I have a couple of ideas.” Panda’s toying with words now, daring her to say what she really wants to say. 

It’s pretty damn obvious as to what she’s fishing for: any chance to drag them for quitting as one of the clan’s most reputable mercenaries. 

And Panda’s only been a mercenary for three years. Three measly years would normally qualify them as being a rookie. Three years of Panda wrecking almost everybody else in the clan qualifies them as being a prodigy. For some fucked up reason, this made their clan  _ proud. _

All Panda wants to do is find a source of excitement in their life that’ll last longer than what a run of a mill job offers. Playing video games is fun and all, but it’s no substitute for reality. Blood and smashing faces in just isn’t the same in a digital setting.

That said, if people got in their way, then that’s fine by them; it’s when people tried to get in their way to bring them down got boring fast. And when Panda has their mind made up, nothing could shake their decision. So, people had given up early on to leave Panda to rise to glory in peace. Or leave for the hospital with an assortment of injuries while Panda yawned and went about mopping up all the blood before somebody slipped on it.

“Like  _ baking _ ?” Panda ignores the barb in favor of simply staring her down with their one good eye. 

From the way the aunt refuses to back down, she’s from the same side of the family where clashes resulted in being glassed in the face with a bottle during rowdier meetings. Typical mercenary family characteristics.

Time to change tactics. Panda smiles. The aunt frowns. Perhaps she’d expected them to fire back a retort that’d suffice as further ammunition. “Maybe. I quite like baking, actually,” is the truth Panda admits.

That’s not exactly true nor or a lie; Panda’s never so much as made a proper cake in their entire life. They much preferred investing in the kind that fit into one mug and could be microwaved for a heavenly burst of melted chocolate. Panda doubts she’ll understand the simplicity of mug cakes.

“Your mother is going to have words with you about this.” The last round’s been fired, now that she can’t gain any traction or making any headway. Panda’s been waiting for their opponent to run out of ammo.

“She already knows, so I think the easiest thing to do would be to tell her that,” Panda steps past her, a hand clapping onto her shoulder as they pass, “you fucking tried and failed horrifically. Later!” With that, they exit stage left, not bothering to watch her splutter, the wind taken out of her sails. 

They’ll take the job she offered though. The pay for that would be enough to stock their snack cupboard for two months.

The main headquarters for Panda’s clan is a series of terrace-like buildings squatting in a compound, patio to patio. Each are connected by a series of tunnels hastily stitched on as plans and the clan grew to accommodate new members. Each of the buildings in the entire district is more or less owned by a relative. 

Last time Panda checked the family tree, the clan numbered well into the hundreds. It’s not helped by the constant adoptions happening. Panda’s not feeling that same urge to raise a bunch of brats, though they would like to own a couple of pets someday, when they could afford to settle down without someone wanting to break down their front door and off them.

Well, the best part is that wherever Panda’s likely to go in the galaxies, there’ll always be a friendly face ready to greet them upon landing.

The shit part is that they’ll all likely to vote Panda being kicked out the second they voiced wanting to become a bounty hunter. So far, only Saberial knows for sure. Panda stops by the kitchen to grab one of her favourite snacks, seasoned rice crackers shaped like an assortment of wildlife.

In the kitchen are a bunch of a uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, cousins and grandparents. Panda nods in the way of a greeting, dodging invitations to join them for lunch to grab the crackers and ditch before questions happened.

It’s a vault over the back fence, followed by a five minute power walk as a shortcut to the shipyard where their ship’s docked. That route avoids any other interaction with distant or immediate family.

Mom will probably have heard of the rudeness by now. She’s bound to be looking for them. As the matriarch, her word is law around these parts and Panda doesn’t exactly play by the rules if they saw it didn’t pan out to their advantage in the long run.

Their siblings might disagree (with the exception of Saberial, whom mom has always been fairly relaxed towards). Then again, Mom always kept them under their thumb. Panda might be the first to scuttle out from under it.

Panda is hoping to get off-world before she can have their head. It’s not that Panda hates the jobs she sent their way. The jobs offered enough variety to keep them interested. The pay is nothing to sneeze at either, allowing them to live comfortably. But none of it is truly  _ challenging.  _ Panda craves really wanting to be pushed to their limit, to either perish in action or die trying to surpass it.

Mercenaries lived dreadfully boring lives once people pushed past the bit about being a jack of all trades for cash.

Saberial doesn’t mind being a mercenary, save the impact it’s having on her love life. For now, she seems content with raising her reputation to avoid catching flak. Panda’s not going to fault her for that.

In their line of work, most couldn’t afford to be picky about what came their way. Saberial’s conscience refuses to settle for anything less than a just cause. It’s an ongoing source of friction between her and the clan members who felt that her talents are being wasted. 

Panda’s been caught in the middle more than once defending her. Occasionally, having a reputation as one of the clan’s prodigious mercenaries is useful for shutting people up. Especially if said reputation is accompanied with rumours of unpredictability dogging them everywhere.

Saberial’s ship is in the shop (for something about a fried circuit in her ship’s cannons due to a vital connection overheating).

For now, she’s riding shotgun with Panda, sharing room and pay. Saberial herself is currently slouched on a shipping crate, sipping from a juice box and flicking through a weapons magazine. 

Panda approaches her, trying to put away their saltiness over the current situation. They poke her in the leg to get her attention. “Oi, I have crackers!”

“Welcome back!” She glances down at Panda, the magazine fluttering onto the toolbench nearby. “You were gone for ages! What happened in there?” She means ‘whatever happened to sneaking out the contents of your locker’.

“I ran into an aunt that mum sent over to harass me into not quitting,” Panda tells her, making a face. They don’t want to talk about it now. “Come on, help me refuel Johnson.”

“But you’re not actually quitting, you’re just changing tracks,” Saberial points out, rolling her eyes as she hops down to help Panda refuel the ship. The juice box flies into a greasy bin. “Johnson?” She frowns at Panda, catching the bag of crackers that are tossed her way.

A point directs her gaze to the side of the ship. Panda grins, glad for the change of subject. “I renamed my ship!”

“You renamed your ship ‘BigDickJohnson.’” Saberial begins to giggle.

“Green had to rename their ship too,” Panda points out with a smug nod. “We both drew when we bet we’d won.” Their hand falls to trace a cable on the floor. A capped end is lugged up onto a shoulder. “I hope Green actually kept their side of the bet because I can’t wait to see what they renamed to.”

“I bet it’ll be something equally great,” Saberial dryly says. She actually doesn’t want to know; it’ll be either equally great or equally terrible. Knowing Panda’s hideous sense of humour, they’ll think it’s  _ both. _

With her help (and Panda will never get over how much more physically capable Saberial is than them), cables are hooked up to the open port in the side. Underground, the gargantuan fueling machine begins to clunk and emit gurgling noises like a sinkhole being drained with a vacuum cleaner.

In the meantime, Panda strides over to the back of their beloved ship. A wave over the lock invites the tiniest of pauses. Panda sighs, resorting to thumping twice on the reinforced metal. As if there’d been no delay, the metal plates smoothly split in half. The halves fold away with a precision that masters of origami would have admired from afar.

“Did you finally clean up your ship?” Saberial notices how it smells less like a barrel of hot sauce had exploded inside of Panda’s ship. 

She has to duck to avoid her forehead painfully meeting the top of the hatch. It smells of mint inside. A pine tree air freshener dangling from cockpit is the source.

“Shut up, I was getting roaches,” Panda sourly responds (with no need to duck upon entry). Saberial bites back the temptation to say ‘I told you so’, constantly forgetting that Panda’s ship isn’t really built to hold two people. With her height, small rooms felt impossibly cramped. 

She’d prefer her own ship, roomier by a fair margin (like not smacking her funny bones whenever she turned).

Standard ships that mercenaries could afford typically housed at max, two mercenaries. Three, if each of the mercenaries didn’t take up much space to begin with and traveled light. Mercenaries could be iffy about sharing living space with others, however temporarily. 

It’s not because of the rampant problem of snack thievery. Rather, it’s that mercenaries tended to approach social customs as they would a free-for-all buffet: making sure they emerged on top, even if they had to play dirty, fast and loose with the rules and spike everybody else’s food with laxatives. 

Mercenaries are a surprisingly competitive lot. It skipped Panda (save in regards to video games; that’s when Panda pulls out all the stops). Despite Saberial being adopted, she naturally took to it like a fish to water. It surprises people that Saberial doesn’t like losing, more so than Panda.

This trait meant that many mercenaries lived alone on the account that very few ever agreed on a single code of conduct (except for no snack thievery) for sharing living space. It extended to other aspects of the job as well.

Corporations in the know practically had to provide an acceptable, sizeable incentive to bring a group together or risk the operation imploding before it began. It didn’t mean that mercenaries wouldn’t spurn the occasional company though. Not of the amorous kind. The social kind.

Mercenaries didn’t really buy into the misconception that they’re loners at heart; they thrived on gossip.

Gossip briefly brought mercenaries together. It also started fights. Bartenders hated happy hour when it came to mercenaries. It meant extra work and preparing to send people to the doctor located in the back alley where one can’t be certain whether they’re walking out properly stitched up or with a bit of blood missing.

When one lives alone, one hungers for news like for a ration bar that doesn’t taste of beef or chicken. Or any kind of powdered soup, really.

The claustrophobic interior of Panda’s ship consists of one main chamber tripling as the living room, bedroom and kitchen. Digistruct modules house each utility that could be called on when needed. For now, Panda has it set to their bedroom. 

A closet squeezed into the corner served as the bathroom, housing a shower, sink and toilet. Navigating it during turbulence invited the risk of bruises or a broken neck.

An empty doorway leads to the cosy cockpit. A hatch in the roof led to what Panda and Saberial dubbed ‘the attic’, given its designation as extra storage space. One had to get down on their hands and knees to really explore it. Panda kept their personal belongings up there in digistruct storage units. Down below rests the engines and cargo bay (or the ‘brig’).

Each mercenary zealously guarded their ship. To them, a ship isn’t just an object that took them from location to location. It’s their home, sanctuary, refuge and bastion all in one. It’s said that each ship uniquely reflected the inside of a mercenary’s head, especially since they spent so much time cooped up in it. It’s ambiguous as to whoever wrote the saying is referring to the mercenary’s headspace or the ship.

In Panda’s case, the inside of their ship is a state of carefully controlled chaos. Saberial and Panda had long settled on an agreement that she would not attempt to clean up their shit and Panda wouldn’t steal snacks during visits to her ship.

Clothes are split up into ‘worn’ and ‘clean’ piles. Saberial can’t tell the difference between the two, cautiously avoiding them. There could be creatures nesting in there. With Panda, she never knows if they’ve decided to let something move in or it’s just an animated piece of mold.

Used to her phobia of their clothes, Panda sidesteps them, hopping over the stack of brand new ammo crates, cot and rumpled blankets to squeeze into the cockpit. 

To do so, Panda has to sidle around the lone chair in there and plop down into it at the right angle or risk slamming a body part into a control panel.

Hence, that’s why Panda wears layered clothing and padded bits on their elbows and knees inside of their own ship.

Aside from managing to cram all the living essentials into the ship’s cramped quarters, the chair is the only other bit Dahl got right when designing ships. 

More than once, when exhaustion is too much to lug out the cot, Panda can safely fall asleep in the cockpit without developing a sore tush or body (now more important than ever, what with Saberial using their only cot).

That’s saying something, especially all the free space in total only allows Panda to lift their arms just over their head. The rest of is taken up by control panels that the missing instruction manual fully explained (that Panda had never read), plus the twin joysticks controlling flight and weaponry. They also doubled as gaming controllers (provided Panda had the settings enabled first to avoid accidents with the ship’s laser cannons).

Through the green light of the cockpit, Panda toggles on the blinking fuel meter, scrutinising it. The numbers begin to scroll upwards as it processes the incoming fuel.

“Half-full!” They report over one shoulder, running other pre-take off checks. Weapons online, life support online, filters online (in need of cleaning), oxygen recycler online… “You can take out the cable in five minutes.”

Saberial is far too busy poking around Panda’s bedroom to respond, her lip curling. The first time she’d returned to live here, the cot had rested against one wall, folded up. A finger had revealed a thick layer of dust. All the blankets had been relocated to the cockpit in spite of Panda claiming that they didn’t get cold.

There’d been bugs. That’s no excuse for not cleaning up.

“Space is freezing! And the bugs don’t harm anyone!” Panda had defensively said. Saberial had said nothing, grinning at how Panda huffed. Green had defended Panda (and she can cite ‘they’re a grown ass adult, so stop babying them’). Both had been baffled at her lack of need for additional insulation while traveling through space.

That said, all the ammo crates being stocked must meant that Panda is going somewhere. Or intends to. There’s no need to comment on the state of their room and start a fight.

“Are you going on a job?” Saberial inquires, breaking into one of the crates to help herself. If Panda hasn’t kicked her out by now, they must want her to tag along. They usually didn’t mind the extra assistance or the split pay.

“Oh yeah, here. Catch!” A dossier is lobbed at high speed out of the cockpit. It bounces off the canvas cot, cartwheeling through the air. Saberial dives for it before it can fly out the back of the ship and smash on the flooring.

“Panda!” The dossier is caught by between her palms.

“Sorry, not sorry!” Panda calls out from the cockpit. They slip out of the cockpit to dart past her, boots thudding like thunderclouds on the metal flooring. A second later, the droning noise of refuelling from beneath her feet ceases.

She can hear Panda tugging the cables loose. Saberial lets out a sigh at the mess they’re going to leave behind, slipping out to help tidy up so that the next person using a certain docking bay won’t get tangled up or slip.

Ten minutes later, Saberial is making herself comfortable on the cot, browsing the ECHOnet to take her mind off the take-off. Panda’s closed the hatch, dousing them in the soothing hues of white fluorescent lighting that guaranteed a headache in three hours. A cursory fiddle with the panel lowers it to something approaching ‘romantic motel lighting, if one didn’t mind the mysterious stains on the ceiling’.

The second Panda is cleared for takeoff, Panda directs the ship up. Saberial can tell without having to stickybeak over Panda’s shoulder. It’s in the way the whole ship shudders as if it’s the epicentre of an earthquake, perhaps anticipating the joy of being able to fly again. 

Or maybe it’s Panda’s horrendous flight skills. So long as the ship could navigate left, right, up, down, upside-down and etc., mercenaries scoffed at any sort of formal training. Panda thinks they’re the best pilot ever. Saberial’s insides beg to differ, during dogfights (she’s probably not that different, but she likes to think she’s a tiny bit better than them).

There’s a split second of gravity proving absent as the ship shoots forward, fighting to gain height. Gravity asserts itself in the following second, slamming everything that’s not nailed down backwards, such as the sagging cot, all the blankets, loose ammo crates and her.

“Panda, why didn’t you put away the ammo crates!” Saberial shrieks as she’s forced to yank her legs up to avoid the crates. The crates skid to the back of the ship, banging into the sides and sending clothes flying. Pried loose from floor brackets, the cot flings her sideways with it.

Panda can’t hear her because they’re wearing headphones, also occupied with taking the ship higher into the thinning atmosphere. Not trusting their piloting skills, Saberial waits for the takeoff to ease before getting up. Limping, she enters the cockpit, awkwardly stooping to fit inside.

Anyone who thinks Panda is cool is mistaken. Clearly they haven’t lived with Panda to learn otherwise. 

Gritting her teeth (nobody should ever have to be hit in the shin by the corner of an ammo crate), Saberial leans over to tug the headphones off Panda’s head. Music dating from centuries ago blare from them. Indignant, Panda turns to protest the loss of their tunes. They’re promptly interrupted by a crude smack to the head that elicits a yelp.

“What was that  _ for _ ?” Panda snaps, rubbing their head with a hand. Their white, spiky hair continues to stick up despite the motion.

“You didn’t put your crap away before takeoff and guess who was sitting in your bedroom then,” Saberial snaps back, resting her arm on the back of the chair. If it weren’t for the impending job, she’d have began ripping Panda a new one for forgetting a simple pre-takeoff procedure.

“It usually doesn’t bother me,” Panda sulkily mutters, restoring the headphones to their proper place. Snatches of music still filter their way into the cramped cockpit. 

“That’s because you’re not the one in the bedroom at the time,” Saberial points out.

“I’m too busy flying this thing to play human shield for you!” And listening to their awful tunes.

Saberial flashbacks to a fond memory of Green muting Panda for daring to play a song over the mic and singing along; she doesn’t blame Green for doing so, given that Panda is tone deaf and couldn’t carry a tune to save their life.

“I read the dossier,” Saberial says once the resentment’s subsided from the bickering. Panda grunts. She takes it as a sign that she can continue talking; they’re never salty for very long, compared to Green. “Anshin wants us to check out a luxury cruiser that’s been stranded between Tethys and Eros-6.”

“It’s been sitting there for months,” Panda observes. “I wonder why they haven’t just towed it away?”

“They’ve probably transporting something valuable that they don’t want people to get their hands on,” Saberial theorises. It’s not often that they get hired to deal with special ‘cargo’.

“Then they shouldn’t have asked us to check it out.” Panda laughs. 

It’s a general rule of thumb that when hiring mercenaries, expect them to help themselves to loot that’s not part of the deal and that if asked to return them, it’d require paying extra. Panda’s no exception. Saberial will hand over the goods (if nicely asked to). It’s a fun way to make extra money, if somewhat questionable.

“Or it could be something dangerous and nobody wants to go near it,” Saberial jokes, hoping that she’s proven wrong.

“Who would put something dangerous on a luxury cruiser?” Panda rolls their one good eye. “That’s stupid.”

“Panda, luxury cruisers travel to multiple places during a multiple trip, so it makes sense that they’d do deliveries as well,” Saberial lectures. Trust Panda to overlook common sense.

“But who would put something  _ dangerous  _ in the cargo?” Panda repeats. “You know what, I bet it’s an exotic pet that got loose and killed everyone on board. Lots of guts and bits once we get there, oh yes.”

“That’s disgusting.” Saberial punches the back of the chair. It’s that or go for Panda’s head again. “You’re disgusting. I bet it’s just a retrieval. They're too chickenshit to check out the ship themselves, that’s why.”

“Leave my chair alone!” Panda shimmies about in their chair to free it from her wrath. “I wonder if we can keep it if they don’t want it back.”

“They probably do want it back.” Saberial throws a glance around Panda’s ship for a new place to let her arm rest, dryly adding, “Plus, I doubt your ship has room or is clean enough for a pet.”

“Just for that, I’m buying a kitten,” Panda says.

“Please spare the kitten,” Saberial automatically says.

“It’s lonely out here in space,” Panda counters. “A kitten will really liven things up!”

“Do you think you can afford to take care of a kitten,” Saberial deadpans. Never mind how Panda’s asked for a kitten every Mercenary Day on a consistent basis for the last decade or so. Every detail appears to fuel their lifelong desire to own one.

“I think I can.” A defiant note has slipped into Panda’s voice. “I have enough money saved up. In fact, I reckon I can afford a diamond kitten,” They brag.

“It's just chew on everything,” Saberial says, looking up the current prices of kittens (diamonds or not, she pities the unlucky kitten that’ll have to put up with the Panda constantly)

The bickering resumes until they reach the luxury cruiser. The sight of it in the distance shelves the bickering. From afar, the whole cruiser could be mistaken for a hive of activity, greyish shapes glinting and darting about its perimeter.

Once Panda and Saberial draw closer, the shapes turn out to be planetary patrol ships from Tethys. Worried planetary patrol ships, at that. Three of them fly up to Panda’s incoming ship, drawing up in formation around it. One of them threatens to open fire.

Not fazed by the intimidation attempt, Panda calmly asserts that they’re here on the authority of Anshin. Failing that, the copied certified dossier placates the aggressive attitude of the patrol. They become much more amiable, escorting them towards the luxury cruiser. It’s also likely because of Panda and Saberial’s combined reputations.

Saberial finds that the way they dodge her questions suspicious in spite of the admiration (and one promised autograph). Panda swiftly concludes that whatever loot they’ve been asked to retrieve must have some incredible value to make the cops skittish.

The following patrol ships pause around an establish perimeter of blinking beacons.

“See, they really don’t want anybody else getting in!” Panda can’t help sounding dreadfully smug as they dodge a wayward beacon being tugged back into place by a tractor beam.

“The cops didn’t answer my questions back there.” Saberial is still maintaining her cautious outlook. She’s only here because her ship is being repaired or else she’d have lobbed the dossier out the airlock long ago. Jobs that are vague spelled trouble. This one spelled it with a capital ‘T’.

“Help me look for a docking bay,” Panda evades her hint that this could end horribly, leaning forward in their seat to peer out the window. 

They have to turn their head more to take in their surroundings, given their halved vision. Saberial’s given up long ago on telling them to use their prosthetic eye more often; Panda preferred the handicap.

“Over there, by the gravity anchor,” Saberial points out. “Mind it.” Panda brings the ship in low, flicking a switch above their head to unfold the landing gear.

“Gently does it,” Panda coaxes. Saberial thinks they’re referring to the ship, detecting a note of fondness for it. The ship lands with nothing more than a thump once it’s breached the blue shield forming the airlock.

Saberial moves into the bedroom to allow Panda room to leave the cockpit. The two of them take stock of what they’ll need.

A childhood filled with drills (or risk a cuff to the head from their mom overseeing said drills for fumbling, even just once) means that not even someone as absent-minded as Panda can ignore mission preparations. It depends on the job they’ve been handed.

For this one, a simple retrieval is likely to involve minimal threats. Panda and Saberial will be forgoing heavy weaponry like rocket launchers and sniper rifles. The free inventory will also be used however they saw fit (like stuffing unattended valuables or free hotel mints away). They don’t need to take out everyone to bring back the goods, just get in there, grab in there and get out.

It’s easy jobs like this that grow to be the bread and butter of a mercenary’s simple life. It might not pay enough to afford a ship’s yearly maintenance fees but it paid the weekly ration subscriptions and living expenses.

Panda locks the ship, stepping into the docking bay with Saberial at their side. An assortment of private ships leak premium fuel from their engines. The air reeks of it, making the two of them feel as if an oily residue is forming on their tongues just from breathing it in.

Not a soul is in sight.

“Should have brought an Oz kit,” Saberial mutters in disgust. There’s plentiful oxygen but it’s polluted by the fumes. The gravity’s also active. Fighting in zero gravity is trickier than ECHOnet videos made it out to be.

“I might have a couple in my room. Check in my locker.” Saberial ducks back inside to grab them once Panda’s unlocked their ship.

While she’s gone, Panda frowns at the waste of fuel, noting that the fuelers should have automatically disengaged the second the engines are full. Trust the cruiser to invest in cheapass fueling machines. All that money must have gone elsewhere, like making the place fancy.

Upon her return, Saberial hands Panda an Oz kit. After checking that the oxygen tank is full, Panda attaches it to one shoulder. It’ll kick in when it’s needed. Their ship is locked once again.

“Wait here, alright?” Panda gives the ship an affectionate pat before stepping away. “We won’t be long.”

“We should have a look around,” Saberial proposes. “Get an idea of what’s going on.” Stepping on the ship’s made the foreboding feeling worse, like they’re intruding territory best left alone. 

“I thought there’d be  _ people. _ ” Panda likes the idea, especially if it involves looting. Er, repurposing items, that is. They make a beeline for the nearest ship, an orange art installation mixed with green sleek number with a front sharper than a sniper rifle’s bayonet. 

“I’m going over here,” Saberial tells them. Panda just nods, already having popped the hatch open (funny how easily it allows them in) to gleefully rifle through the glove box and cockpit for loose items that can be pocketed.

Keeping an eye on her radar for movement aside from Panda’s icon, Saberial moves towards the docking bay’s office with the goal of seeing what she can find there. Compared to the outside of the ship, the docking bay and hallways are styled fairly ordinary in comparison. 

The docking bay’s office door is nudged open. A quick search of the office reveals nothing useful.

The console on the other hand, reveals that no ships have left the cruiser. Only one ship’s been logged entering and the ID matches up with ‘BigDickJohnson’, Panda’s ship. Not even the planetary patrol ships have boarded. That strikes her a red flag to add to the growing tally.

First the lack of reception, the skittish behaviour of the patrol, then this. Saberial doesn’t particularly want to jump to conclusions. Many a mercenary’s died from that mental shortcut. While skeptical, she can’t deny that something fishy is going on.

She starts when Panda barges into the room. They’re clearly done with pilfering all the ships in the docking bay. A pocket bulges with chocolate coins, Panda’s jaw undergoing chewing motions. 

“Panda! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” Saberial lowers her rifle that she’d pulled out during a search. “I think pirates might have attacked the cruiser and killed everyone.” It’s a long shot to guess but there aren’t really any other explanations that fit.

All Panda does is snort, heading over to the console to scrutinise the logs as well. “I didn't see any signs of forced boarding.” A pause occurs as they skim the text. “The docking bay let us in instead of blocking us off.”

Saberial has to concede that they have several points worth considering. “It could have been a clean job. An inside job.”

“Maybe.” Panda shrugs, leaving the console to rummage through the lockers in the room. They bust the locks with a simple twist from stolen pliers.

“On second thought, Tethys is one of the most anti-pirate planets around. I doubt they’d let a luxury cruiser get attacked right next door.” Saberial reluctantly joins in on the looting. There’s nobody around to call her out on it. If anything, Panda seems pleased to see her partaking in an activity she usually scorned.

“Corruption,” Panda muses. “Tethys is just as bad as Eden-5.”

“The patrols should have blocked us, then.”

“They could just want us to grab the goods and kill us once we leave,” is Panda’s pragmatic response.

“But that one guy wanted your autograph! And mine! Why would he want to kill us?”

“He could have been lying.”

“Yeah, but I like to think that people are generally good. At heart.”

“They usually are,” Panda agrees, not wanting to start arguing with her about human nature and how it’s naturally inclined towards chaos. The two fall silent as they head down the hallway towards the ballroom.

Call Panda cynical but years of living another life on the ECHOnet has granted them ample opportunity to witness the fucked up nature of humanity. They have to give Saberial massive credit for being able to find the goodness in all that, let alone interacting with such a medium.

The ballroom could fit a turbo mansion and still have room leftover to fit in an even smaller version. The ballroom’s crystal chandelier lies shattered in the middle of the mosaic floor. Cracked tiles have flown out from underneath, ruining the holographic effect. At the moment, the tiles are jumping between grass and a plush carpet, glitching erratically like an ECHOnet video being constantly buffered.

Saberial and Panda’s boots crunch on glass and crystal, turning splinters into dust in their wake. Neither of them react to the sounds slicing through the air. The residual lights sputter as the backup power wanes, struggling to meet all the quotas.

Here and there, the occasional leaf is decaying. Clearly, someone had thought it’d be wonderful to imitate fall in the ballroom by taking piles of leaves and dumping them in piles everywhere.

A buffet is left out to rot along one boundary. Whatever constitutes as fine dining (from the tiny two pronged forks to the delicate flute glasses) is lost on them. It’s as if a whole restaurant upped and left without disturbing a single item. Nothing is out of place. Everything is out of place.

Saberial’s eyes are drawn to the flicker of movement across the radar, in her peripheral vision. It’s blocked by Panda’s bobbing head of white hair as they walk besides her. Not wanting to alarm them by pointing a gun in their direction, she faces the front once more.

“Got a hit on my radar,” She whispers out of the corner of her mouth. They’re being watched, she guesses. Whoever it is, they’re being tricky by remaining out of her radar’s range. They can’t fool two and a half pairs of eyes, though.

“Me too,” Panda whispers back, barely moving their lips. “On my right, three hundred metres away, behind the row potted plants.” 

They itch to go check out the casino located on the next floor. Saberial wouldn’t permit it, seeing gambling as one of those activities that mercenaries should be above. Panda has no objections, provided they won to make up for their losses.

Following their directions, Saberial lets her gaze travel to the row of exotic potted plants. In the shadows, a round shape bobs beneath leaves the color of ripe pomegranates.

A shared nod, and the two of them split apart, timing their action to flank the shape. Panda hangs back with their shotgun at the ready, allowing Saberial to approach as the shape stills. Darting blue eyes peer out at them, reflecting the light of the ballroom.

Saberial flicks on the light of her HUD to drive away the shadows. To her irritation, a diamond kitten is hunched below the leaves, attempting to make itself as invisible as possible.

“It’s hurt,” She flatly observes. Whatever could scratch diamonds means serious business. Their job just rose in difficulty. “We should go back and pick up more guns, I don’t think our loadout is enough to handle what hurt the cat.”

Panda’s staring at the cat with an unreadable expression. “Whoever owns it isn’t alive anymore,” Panda states (with far too much hopeful optimism), gesturing with their gun at the kitten that’s now scratching at the dirt in the pot. Dirt flies out as it tries to bury itself. Saberial steps back to avoid getting any on her pants and boots. 

The kitten’s collar has marks on it. “You pick it up,” Saberial directs. Panda finds no argument with that order, moving closer. Saberial casts a glance around the rest of the ballroom for the possibility of an ambush now that the distraction has succeeded.

The kitten buries itself in Panda’s jacket the second it’s picked up, meowing. It leaves paw prints on their jacket. Saberial investigates the collar by tugging it towards her; it falls apart at the golden lock. She brings it up, only to hold it up to Panda, looking revolted. Human teeth marks line one edge.

“They tried to  _ eat _ her,” Panda growls. “Rich people have some fucked up notions of fun.” Their grip on the kitten tightens, causing the kitten to meow again. The mewling travels through the air, ringing off the fragments of of crystal and glass on the floor.

“No name’s on the collar,” Saberial coldly reports after flipping the collar over. She discards it onto the floor, grinding the heel of her boot on top of it. Animal cruelty can go on the list of shit that’s going on. “Let’s go back to the ship.”

Only when Saberial has moved back into the docking bay does she realise that Panda is still carrying the kitten when it meows again. She turns, slowly.

“Panda,” She patiently begins. 

The look on Panda’s face hardens. “I'm not leaving her here to get eaten by whatever’s roaming the ship.” It’s almost adorable how Panda’s already gotten so attached to the kitten. At the moment, it’s trying to eat their sleeve.

“I was going to say that she should get locked up in the ship for her own safety, and that we should get the big guns out just in case the big thing decides to try to eat us,” Saberial says.

“Oh.” Panda relaxes. “That sounds like a better plan than mine.”

“You weren’t seriously planning on taking her with us as we check out the cruiser, were you?”

“No, not at all!” Panda hastily says. Saberial refrains from pointing out how tightly they’re clutching the kitten to their chest before assisting Panda get the kitten settled in the ship.

The kitten is scratching at the inside of the hatch once they leave it in there, crying out for them to return. It’s only when Saberial tugs on Panda’s sleeve as a reminder do they lock the ship. Still, it takes longer for Panda tear their tender gaze away from the ship.

“The kitten had better not piss all over my shit,” Panda says but no venom is present in their tone.

Wanting to take Panda’s mind off the kitten, Saberial suggests, “We should head to the bridge or the cargo bay to see if there’s any other clues as to what happened.”

“We go together,” Panda says, their eye scanning the hallway. “Splitting up isn’t good. How about we get the loot and then if we have time, check the bridge for the black box?” The black box would be worth extra, even if it’s not specified as part of the retrieval. The best mercenaries thought ahead; the good ones simply did their job.

“Okay,” Saberial quietly says, even as the idea of traveling further into the ship evokes dread she can’t shake, especially having to encounter whatever it is that’d harmed the kitten.

Behind them, a shadow lumbers forward to deal with the intruders.

\--

Teep wakes to the familiar sensation of their brain attempting to curl up on itself. It takes a few disjointed seconds to align their whereabouts with their surroundings, one where they’re not quite sure if they’re lucid dreaming or fully conscious yet. 

On top of cot. The three blankets must have been kicked off during sleep. Must have suffered another lovely flashback to do that. Flashback not found. Currently inside of ship. Ship is not moving, therefore parked somewhere. Not outside doing anything important. ECHO device silent, no change in logs. Therefore, on standby, safe and secure.

Time to get up.

Getting a good night’s sleep is one of those things that happened to other people. When the insomnia is rampant, Teep resorts to going onto the ECHOnet until the crushing fatigue knocks them out.

Until then, games serve as their default go-to hobby to fill in the time between contracts. Teep measures time not in seconds, minutes or hours, but with games. It’s difficult enough for Teep to orientate themself with dates when the days tended to slip by without much notice. Their mind and sense of time simply lacked the mental grease that other people had to hang onto their daily recollections.

One second stretched out into another and before Teep knew it, two entire days have flown by. Fortunately, keeping track of whatever they’ve done in that those days is second nature. Mostly. Games bookmarked interactions and events, making it easier for Teep to memorise what they’ve been up to. Or remembering enough to get by, that is.

That said, Teep despises sleeping (almost as much as freezing temperatures). Sleeping never fully rid the lumps of tension that marked the passage of insomnia, like carving notches on a tree trunk with a hundred other scars present.. 

The lumps tended to form between the joints in Teep’s limbs, burrowing their way between bone to tease the muscles apart until the soreness spread, an affliction that made life significantly less enjoyable than it already is. To get away from it, Teep tended to disconnect from reality.

When the time skips began, Teep knows to lie down before they can lose a week. A couple of hours missing from a (shudder) nap is much more preferable to enormous chunks of weeks that Teep will never get back.

The draft from the air conditioner (doubling as heater) is bothering them, causing them to crave a planet that didn’t have the ability to freeze them to death. However, there’s a mark due to arrive in two weeks. 

Until then, Teep will have to fucking put up with the temperamental air conditioner or fork over the money for a hotel. Hence, that’s what all the blankets are for.

To Teep, the best blankets are what bargain hotplates are to Saberial, and a decent prosthetic eye to John.

Teep tugs the hood of their jacket up, fixing their gloves and rest of their clothes until the cold couldn’t harass them. Sleeping tended to dislodge their wrappings and goggles, so Teep preferred to sleep without them whenever they could. Their ship is the only place where they can feel comfortable enough to walk around without them on.

It’s only been three hours since they last ate and drank. Hunger and thirst didn’t affect them as it did for other people. The bodily aches have dulled to a tolerable background sensation, used to being ignored. The daily, constant slouching in the pilot’s chair probably made it worse.

A message from FiZone pops up on their goggles while Teep is moving into the cockpit to toggle the air conditioner’s settings to ‘reduce the shivering’. 

The cockpit’s screen is always synced to their HUD and goggles, allowing Teep to see any incoming invites or messages no matter where they are in their ship. There’s a few awaiting a look when Teep toggles on the transparent overlay so that it fills the inside of the cockpit.

> GREEN

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BE AWAKE

> ARE YOU THERE

Teep is already tapping out a message when the third one appears.

> what

They wait, letting the ship’s engines warm up in the meantime. An initial leisurely hum is all that indicates the start of the process. As warmth seeps in from the vents, Teep rubs at their face, yawning (slowly, to avoid any of their teeth catching on anything inside of their mouth) as they sit down. 

They have no idea where their gloves went before they passed out, so it’s ‘do everything bare-handed today’ time until the gloves showed up again. Fingers attempt to comb down the strands of bed-hair and fail; Teep gives up to check the rest of their overlay, shrugging off the nagging feeling to go back to bed. It’s pointless with how warped their sleep schedule is, so they might as well stay awake for the next twelve hours.

A couple of other messages from InTheLittleWood and TForce demand attention. Obviously, Saberial’s is the priority.

> JOHN NEEDS YOUR HELP

> CANT TALK

> BUSY SHOOTING THINGS

> WILL EXPLAIN LATER

Right. There’d better be a decent explanation as to why Saberial is panicking. That’s not like her. Already, the day is off to a wonderful start.

Halfway to fully waking up, Teep tugs the keyboard from on top of a panel towards them. They message John on the assumption that John will immediately respond. Unless John is extremely occupied like Saberial is.

That’s fine, Teep has all fucking day to deal with whatever the two are up to.

\--

Panda is busy shooting down the rabid horde attempting to forcibly bring them down as to join the planned assimilation in the cargo bay. They’d also like the mother seed back. Said seed is with Saberial, crudely shoved into plastic cylindrical contained that once housed tennis balls. 

The lid is sealed with three layers of with duct tape. Neither Saberial and Panda had been infected with the odd, purple glowing spores it spat out once Panda had accidentally tipped it out. It makes them both want to facepalm how nobody had thought to wear Oz kits once the spores went airborne.

With any luck, she’ll have sneaked out after Panda’s diversion. All it’d been had been a well-timed rocket to the ceiling, plus screaming ‘oi, over here you fuckers’ at the top of their lungs in a voice that would have made grown mercenaries shit themselves.

That means that the one Panda is carrying is a decoy, the original canister. They’d just crammed a walnut in with some plastic wrappers for deception. The horde had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker the second Panda sprinted off towards the back of the ship with the precious canister dangling in full view on their belt.

Now, Panda is being cornered. The back of the cruiser proves to be of no help to their wish to leave the fucking cruiser in one piece. They definitely do not want to spend the rest of their life being an alien plant’s zombified minion.

They have five more harlequin novels to finish!

Those minions are no beauties to look at. Former humans have sprouted a number of veiny, pulsing, leafy protrusions from their eyes, ears, mouth and nose. Tendrils of sinewy growth punch through fingernails. They also doubled as vines and feelers, which Panda and Saberial had quickly learned. The alien had been clever to leave the legs be for full mobility.

Panda dives for the only door in sight, a heavyset airlock. A maintenance card swiped from a toolbox seals the doors. In here, Panda is temporarily safe. Before they’d run out to be a distraction, Saberial had handed them a couple of incendiary mines cobbled from her grenades and scrap parts.

Those are armed in the air vents, once Panda’s stacked crates atop one another. It’s hard to say whether these creatures are single entities, or a hivemind reduced to functioning on instinct, dumbed down by the loss of the original progenitor.

Knowing what it is won’t help their escape or survival. Crawling out of the vents, Panda lands on the floor to assess what tools they have. Sweat makes their eyepatch stick to their skin. They lift their eyepatch, wiping off as much as they could with their sleeve. Their prosthetic eye continues to slumber, seeing no purpose in waking yet.

As tempting as it is for Panda to take off their jacket, they don’t have any time to spare, the gears of their mind furiously spinning to figure out a solution.

This isn’t the first time that shit has hit the fan. This time just seems horribly bleak. Outside, furious shrieks accompany the sounds of branches being snapped on the doors. The metal is reinforced against vacuum but won’t withstand a determined horde for long.

A frisk of the room arms Panda with a wrench, crowbar, batteries, a shield, wires and a bunch of other junk that is completely fucking useless. The only item of some value is the toolkit, the lid of which won’t shut properly. Congratulations, this is all their life depends on.

A message in their HUD drags their planning aside. Panda’s heart soars at the sight of the sender’s name, spawning a digital keyboard to tap out a response.

GodOfArrows: GREEN

GodOfArrows: ive never been so glad to see you

DiNoScope: john

DiNoScope: whats going on

GodOfArrows: im stuck in a room and zombies are outside :(

DiNoScope: what kind of room

GodOfArrows: engines

GodOfArrows: and one broom closet

GodOfArrows: nothing is inside it

DiNoScope: can you get out

GodOfArrows: dude, im stuck

DiNoScope: just checking

DiNoScope: how badly do you want to escape

GodOfArrows: VERY BADLY

GodOfArrows: i will suck your dick if you help

GodOfArrows: or whatever bits you have

DiNoScope: what makes you think i have a dick or a cunt or something else

GodOfArrows: you have a tentacle dick

GodOfArrows: ill take it

GodOfArrows: im not picky

DiNoScope: wow

DiNoScope: that badly, huh

GodOfArrows: please :(

DiNoScope: what do you have thatll help

GodOfArrows: i sent you a pic of the cruiser map and the room

GodOfArrows: sorry for the quality

DiNoScope: do you want the zombies to live

GodOfArrows: lol no

DiNoScope: is FiZone going to be okay with that

GodOfArrows: nobody care about zombies

DiNoScope: okay

DiNoScope: then this is going to sound really extreme

GodOfArrows: I WILL DO ANYTHING

DiNoScope: but you could blow up the engines if you can access the maintenance hatch

GodOfArrows: hold on

GodOfArrows: looks like that crowbar came in useful after all

DiNoScope: just rig it to blow

GodOfArrows: uh

DiNoScope: whats the matter

GodOfArrows: you wouldnt happen to know how to hotwire a starship engine would you

DiNoScope: its not rocket science

GodOfArrows: oh

GodOfArrows: guess im fucked then

GodOfArrows: hey

GodOfArrows: if i die here

GodOfArrows: FiZone can keep the kitten

DiNoScope: stfu and listen to my instructions

GodOfArrows: wait, you do know

GodOfArrows: GREAT

DiNoScope: i need to see the inside

GodOfArrows: ill turn on my camera and you can tell me what to do

DiNoScope: turn on your flashlight as well

GodOfArrows: also i got to mute myself since stuff are throwing themselves against the door and i don't want you to hear them

DiNoScope: take the blue wire and hook it up to the fuel module

GodOfArrows: okay

DiNoScope: now take the red and green wire, twist them together and stick them where the blue wire was

GodOfArrows: er

GodOfArrows: these ones

GodOfArrows: right

DiNoScope: no

DiNoScope: the one on your left

DiNoScope: you are making this harder than it needs to be

DiNoScope: wrong wire you idiot

GodOfArrows: what the fuck do you mean that’s not the right wire

GodOfArrows: dont call me an idiot

GodOfArrows: I GOT ZAPPED

DiNoScope: lol

GodOfArrows: stop fucking laughing

DiNoScope: ill draw you a picture if that helps

GodOfArrows: yes pls

GodOfArrows: THEY ARE TALKING TO ME THROUGH THE DOOR THIS IS NOT FUN

GodOfArrows: TELLING ME TO JOIN THEM

GodOfArrows: I DON’T WANT TO JOIN KITTEN MURDERERS

DiNoScope: follow the diagram

DiNoScope: if you do fuck up, you die 

instantly

DiNoScope: been nice knowing you, btw

GodOfArrows: that is reassuring to know

GodOfArrows: OH so that thing goes in there and that DOES APPARENTLY NOT LIKE THAT AT ALL

DiNoScope: you can escape through the vents

DiNoScope cut through the kitchens and the casino to reach the docking bay

GodOfArrows: ill disarm my mines now

GodOfArrows: hold up

DiNoScope: k

DiNoScope: btw the new patch comes out tomorrow

DiNoScope: assuming you live that long

DiNoScope: it looks sick

GodOfArrows: fuck you

GodOfArrows: so how long do i have to run once that’s primed

DiNoScope: about fifteen minutes

DiNoScope: assuming you followed directions

DiNoScope: less than that if you fucked up

GodOfArrows: FIFTEEN MINUTES

GodOfArrows: ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING

DiNoScope: nope

DiNoScope: fifteen minutes is way too much time for me but i took into account how slow you are

DiNoScope: youre welcome

GodOfArrows: YOU MOTHERFUCKER, MY SHIP IS ALL THE WAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CRUISER

DiNoScope: better start running then

GodOfArrows: you fucking bet im going to start fucking running

DiNoScope: stop dawdling and get on your knees

GodOfArrows as you command ;)

DiNoScope: turn left

DiNoScope: mind the zombie

DiNoScope: use a grenade if you want to

DiNoScope: you pleb

GodOfArrows: grenade are awesome

DiNoScope: they are out of style

GodOfArrows: PILLS HERE

DiNoScope: stop getting high on drugs you addict

GodOfArrows: THESE MIGHT COME IN HANDY

DiNoScope: you picked up fifteen bottles of aspirin

DiNoScope: wtf

GodOfArrows: my medicine cabinet is a bit empty

GodOfArrows: do you want a poker chip as a souvenir

DiNoScope: sure

GodOfArrows: what about a zombie head

DiNoScope: pass

DiNoScope: stop looting shit

DiNoScope: you have ten minutes left

GodOfArrows: plenty of time

DiNoScope: no itll take ten minutes to get through the rest of the casino

GodOfArrows: this was a shortcut

GodOfArrows: right

DiNoScope: not if youre dawdling

GodOfArrows: oops wrong room

GodOfArrows: BYE

GodOfArrows: well

GodOfArrows: thats gonna leave a mark on the ceiling

DiNoScope: slowclaps

GodOfArrows: STFU

\--

\- / / GodOfArrows is no longer idle. / / -

\- / / FiZone is no longer idle. / / -

\- / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / -

GodOfArrows: green

FiZone: we owe you one

DiNoScope: no you dont

GodOfArrows: you saved our lives

DiNoScope: its time you told me what happened

FiZone: we went onto a cruiser and there were

FiZone: i shit you not

FiZone: plant zombies

GodOfArrows: anshin was transporting some nasty bio shit in the cargo and it got loose because somebody didn’t shut the lid properly

GodOfArrows: and it infected everybody

DiNoScope: are you in the hospital now

GodOfArrows: yeah

FiZone: they have to clear us :(

DiNoScope: ill send you two a get well card

GodOfArrows: they took away the kitten i wanted to keep :(

FiZone: well get you another one

GodOfArrows: i don’t want another one

GodOfArrows: i want the one they took away

FiZone: i’m sorry john

GodOfArrows: its okay

GodOfArrows: someday ill find the courage to get over it

DiNoScope: how about now

GodOfArrows: stfu

FiZone: by the way green

DiNoScope: what

GodOfArrows: well celebrate your birthday once we get back

DiNoScope: okay

DiNoScope: i g2g

FiZone: :o

FiZone: are you not staying to chat?

DiNoScope: i slept badly so i am going to try again

GodOfArrows: :(

GodOfArrows: okay

\--

Saberial is cleared to leave the hospital far later than Panda, primarily due to the fact that she’d been in contact with the spore carrier the longest. Plus, all the lengthy inquiries about destroying the spore carrier.

The thing had been sealed in the tennis ball container with no chance to unleash its deadly cargo. Still, as a precaution, the agents had wanted her to stay for a week to undergo tests and observation; she hadn’t been about to argue with the people who knew far more about the spore. 

They hadn’t bothered to explain why they were keeping such a dangerous object around, especially if it’s of alien origin.

So, furious at the lack of answers and injustice (people had  _ died  _ and they’re more concerned with the next cure for cancer), she'd busted out of her hospital room with Panda’s help. Together, the two of them had broken through the security checkpoints dressed only in scrubs, managing to lob the seed into the morgue’s incinerator. 

Anshin hadn’t liked that at all; ultimately, making her vanish will incur an outcry from mercenaries everywhere, plus her clan.

Panda had buggered off the second they got cleared to leave, owing to a summons from mom that couldn’t be ignored. Fucking up, plus interfering after the mission meant that Panda is skating on thin ice. 

So is she. Saberial is willing to bet that Panda is going to switch to an alternative career the second all of this blows over. If it ever will, that is. Both their reputations are going to nosedive.

While Anshin had been generous to hush up the incident and collect all the scraps of evidence, the clan knows. They’d written up the original dossier after all and agreed to send two of their very best. In the end, their two best mercenaries had chosen to carry out the opposite of the job.

They can go and fuck themselves.

It’s pouring once Saberial steps outside, protected by her shield. Along the inside of her elbow, the bruises from the blood tests continue to throb, a bothersome ache of a presence. She can still taste the free juice, a specially formulated hypersweetened mix that’ll make her crash soon. 

Much to her dismay, the color of her clothes are beginning to fade from the multiple sterilisation procedures, the leather cracking on jacket, particularly along the seams of her shoulders. Brooding over having to buy new clothes, she nearly misses someone waving to her from across the road.

Saberial squints at the figure wanting her attention. If it’s another agent needing her to sign paperwork, she’ll scream.

Nope, it’s Green. The sight of them lifts her mood, enough for her to wonder what the fuck they’re doing here. She thought they’d be busy for another couple of weeks. Still, she won’t turn them away if they came all this way to see her.

“Green, why are you here?” She sighs once she’s used the crossing to reach them.

In response, Green thrusts a plain, folded card towards her, the edges held between their middle and index fingers. Drops of water bounce off its laminated surface. Saberial gingerly takes it, opening it.

Inside it is Green’s chickenscratch of a handwriting, plus a mess of other signatures. Amongst them, she can pick out variations of ‘GET WELL’ from familiar names.

“John’s not here?” Green tilts their head in the direction of hospital once they’ve signed their question. 

Saberial shakes her head. “John went off to go explain why they helped me. I should too, but I don’t have a ship.” The truth is that she doesn’t want to face the music; John’s pissed off enough to go marching in without fear of the consequences. They have nothing to lose. She does, seeing as her whole career is hinging on it.

“I could give you a lift,” Green offers.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just get a transport over.” Does she seem that dejected? Well, she’s never mastered the art of telling tall tales with a straight face. Saberial puts the card away. It can go into her trunk, along with every other gift she’s ever received.

Green’s looking at her with what she thinks is concern. “Let’s go get something to eat. Hospital food sucks.” The last part is a guess, seeing as technology’s come a long way but if Saberial had known, some things never change.

She can settle for that, only nodding. Green leads the way into a local diner located fifteen minutes away. They both settle in a booth by the fire escape door, backs to the wall and with a full view of the entire diner. The diner is retro themed, giving off the vibe she expects from Panda’s usual playlist.

Saberial lets Green pick what to order for her, trusting them implicitly to know her tastebuds as to get what she’d prefer. 

Green submits the order to the robotic attendant, replacing the menu on its rack to watch her. Saberial keeps her face neutral, avoiding letting her elbow bump into the rack of condiments as she resists it on the top of the table.

“I got something to show you,” They sign. Another piece of folded up paper is brandished, being carefully slid across the table towards her. Saberial feels for the edge, lifting it up and open.

A bounty stares out at her. Green sits besides her, arms folded over their chest, awaiting her reaction. The number at the bottom of the page lists a bounty that Saberial has only ever seen three times in her life.

“Green, you have a bounty,” She states in a hushed tone.

“It’s a lot,” Green acknowledges, mistaking it for awe.

“Are you telling me that you’re not a mercenary?” Saberial returns the page, not trusting herself to let it leave her hands in one piece. “And that your name isn’t really Green.”

“I never said I was one.” Teep takes it, carefully tucking it away. “I figured that I should stop hiding it from you. I was going to tell John too, but they left the planet before I could.”

It’s true. Not has Teep never mentioned their occupation, outside of a vague hint as an ‘independent contractor’. It’s not a lie, but a skewed truth. She’ll let that slide in spite of wanting to call them out on it.

“You two keep missing each other, it’s getting ridiculous,” Saberial tries to joke. Wait. A thought strikes her like a lightning bolt. She can’t let it slide. “But you should stay incognito from now on.”

“I’ve been trying.” Teep heaves a silent sigh, shoulders rolling to make it more obvious. “It’s getting harder and harder.”

“Hey, while we’re here, we should get you the birthday discount.” Saberial points to the poster advertising a discount for as much, trying desperately to figure out a plan of attack in her mind.

Teep shakes their head. “Save it for the raid.” They glance at the poser. “Also, I don’t have any ID on me.”

“We can pretend it’s for me.” Saberial is in the middle of fishing out her own ID, when she frowns. “Hey, how old are you turning this year?”

“Twenty,” Teep replies instantly.

“Hold on.” Saberial stares at Teep, fingers resting on her mercenary ID card. “You said you were twenty last year, and the year before. You can’t be twenty for two years in a row.”

“Well shit Sherlock, you got me. I’m actually five years old.” A shrug. “I’m also very mature for my age.”

“Teep.” Saberial puts down her wallet, both her hands planted firmly on the table.

“What?” They stare back at her.

“How old are you, really?”

If they’d wanted to, they could have walked out and never answered her question. They could have  _ lied.  _ What Teep does is look away, their hands signing, “Eighteen.” They uncertainly add after a pause, ”As of last week. I think.”

“Eighteen. And you already have this bounty on your head?” The booth exhales as she leans back, breathing hard. Saberial’s can’t believe she’s dealing with a  _ kid _ here.

“I’m not a kid.” Teep sardonically dismisses. “I won’t say no to ice cream though, if you want to treat me.”

It’s too much for her. Everything on the table is shifted when she shouts, “Stop joking!” People’s heads turn. They see her glaring at Teep, switching their attention upon seeing her expression. Her expression could have started fires.

Teep regards her coolly, the only person in the diner able to stare her down without flinching. “What would you like me to do then?”

“Quit,” is the word she spits out.

“ _ Quit _ ?” How Teep manages to convey all the emphasis on that one word with the use of their hands, Saberial will never know. “Now you’re the one joking.”

“You have to quit-” She says.

“If what I do is too dangerous, perhaps you should fucking evaluate your own life.” With that, Teep crosses their arms over their chest. Saberial knows they’re glaring because they’ve long since perfected the art of doing so in spite of their hidden face.

It’s enough to make her blood boil; Saberial  _ knows _ she’s being a hypocrite. Where does she start to explain? She does not foresee any happy ending whatsoever when Teep’s bounty escalates. It’s practically on a collision course with Panda’s newfound ambition. 

And Teep is so  _ young _ . They’re only a few years younger than John and herself. That’s a significant gap, to a mercenary. As far as she knows, Teep doesn’t have the luxury of being mentored. From what she can gather, they’re largely self-taught or had picked up the skills quickly (almost too  _ quickly,  _ possibly explaining their ridiculous bounty).

If she can’t talk Panda out of becoming someone who hunts others for a living, then perhaps she has a chance to avert what she dreads of the two’s inevitable meeting, especially if Teep chooses to invite being hunted.

She can’t pick between her best friend or her sibling. The idea alone makes her scared of the outcome once the two finally clash.

“You have to quit. You don’t know what’ll happen if you keep going,” She says, her voice lowered to a whispered plea.

Unable to comprehend, Teep is uncompromising. “I don’t care about what other life exists. This is all I’ve known and I  _ like  _ it.” Only one hand is used to sign. The other one is tucked close to their chest. Teep isn’t even looking at her, their gaze set on the door of the diner. Perhaps they’d like to leave, simply waiting to get the last word in.

By now, everyone’s attention has drifted back to whatever they were doing, definitely not paying attention to the important conversation at the back of the diner. Saberial watches the diner. None of these people will ever step into their shoes. 

There is no envying them; Saberial understands what Teep is saying. While she knows nothing of Teep’s background, she does know that Teep would have fit right in amongst her clan without any difficulty. Her clan would have adopted them in a heartbeat. If only they’d found Teep at the right time. 

Perhaps if things were different, Panda and Teep could have been friends, not just on the ECHOnet but in reality.

Technically, they are friends, but the status of enemies will sour that, until nothing of their friendship remained.

If Teep wants that with all their being, then there’s nothing more she can do. Changing their mind will take more than a talk. Trying to bully or intimidate Teep into cooperating is out of the question. They’ve never yielded to both, even if both arms are tied behind their back.

“We’re done here,” Saberial coldly states, rising to toss down the payment for the food, leaving without looking back at Teep.

Teep waits until she’s gone before tilting their head back to stare at the ceiling, wondering if they’ve just lost their only friend.

Quit? Yeah right. And they’ll go and propose to Panda, complete with a meteor diamond ring.

\--

DiNoScope: go revive FiZone

FiZone: i dont want green to revive me

GodOfArrows: GET ON THE POINT YOU INCOMPETENT FUCKS

InTheLittleWood: GREEN GO SAVE HER

DiNoScope: no

FiZone: I DONT WANT TO BE SAVED BY A PRICK

TForce: I DON’T BELIEVE THIS

TForce: I JUST DIED WITH AN ULT

Vertiigo: that’s a bit harsh

Vertiigo: NO

Vertiigo: I HAD THAT POINT

Vertiigo: MY FUCKING ASS WAS ON IT

Vertiigo: YOU ALL SAW THAT RIGHT

Vertiigo: JOHN????

GodOfArrows: uh

GodOfArrows: we just lost the point

GodOfArrows: and the match

GodOfArrows: gg

InTheLittleWood: :(

InTheLittleWood: we are sucking so badly today

Vertiigo: i fucking thought the purpose of ranked matches was to rank up

Vertiigo: not down

Vertiigo: i’m going on a break

Vertiigo: bbl

Vertiigo: let me know when we stop sucking

TForce: me too 

TForce: i still can’t believe i lost my fucking ult

\- / / Vertiigo is now idle. / / -

\- / / TForce is now idle. / / -

InTheLittleWood: :( if nobody is happy playing

InTheLittleWood: i guess i’ll go and work on my BnB stuff

InTheLittleWood: later

\- / / InTheLittleWood is now idle. / / -

\- / / GodOfArrows has removed InTheLittleWood, TForce and Vertiigo from the chat. / / -

GodOfArrows: wtf is going on with you two

DiNoScope: nothing

FiZone: well

FiZone: i dont want to name names but

FiZone: some people are just too fucking stubborn to think about what theyre doing

FiZone: also they lie about their age

FiZone: to their friends

FiZone: so i think anybody would find that enough of a reason to be angry with them

DiNoScope: alright.

DiNoScope: i see how it is.

DiNoScope: im out.

GodOfArrows: green

\- / / DiNoScope has left the chat. / / -

GodOfArrows: did you really have to fucking do that

FiZone: i

FiZone: feel bad about it now

FiZone: but yes i had to do that

GodOfArrows: dude

GodOfArrows: if theyre not telling us about their actual age

GodOfArrows: leave it

GodOfArrows: its not your problem

GodOfArrows: why did you have to make it a problem

GodOfArrows: theyre not answering me

GodOfArrows: good job

FiZone: are you mad at me now too

GodOfArrows: a little

FiZone: this happened because we had a fight over their life

FiZone: and what would happen if they kept going and pissing off people

GodOfArrows: well

GodOfArrows: drop it

GodOfArrows: you cant just interfere with people like that

FiZone: but

GodOfArrows: its like me becoming a bounty hunter

GodOfArrows: you didnt try to stop me so why are you getting on greens case about their life

FiZone: auuugghhh

FiZone: you wont understand

GodOfArrows: I WOULD IF YOU JUST TALKED TO ME

\- / / FiZone has left the chat. / / -

GodOfArrows: what the fuck is going on with everyone today

\--

DiNoScope: what do you want

GodOfArrows: are you mad at FiZone

DiNoScope: no

GodOfArrows: you cant lie to me like that

GodOfArrows: youve never not revived her before

GodOfArrows: you two usually get on super well

GodOfArrows: IRL and on here

DiNoScope: fine

DiNoScope: yes

DiNoScope: i am

GodOfArrows: why

DiNoScope: she wants me to stop being a contractor

GodOfArrows: idk why

GodOfArrows: she never had a problem with me being one

DiNoScope: she thinks im too young

DiNoScope: which is bullshit

GodOfArrows: it is

GodOfArrows: youre what

GodOfArrows: the same age as us

DiNoScope: yeah

DiNoScope: well

DiNoScope: couple of years younger

GodOfArrows: well

GodOfArrows: its not like youre fifteen or whatever

DiNoScope: im not.

DiNoScope: i dont actually know how old i actually am.

DiNoScope: twenty is a rough guess.

DiNoScope: based on my physical appearance.

GodOfArrows: you dont know how old you really are

GodOfArrows: thats

GodOfArrows: really fucking sad????

GodOfArrows: so all your birthdays

GodOfArrows: werent really your birthdays

DiNoScope: im sorry.

DiNoScope: i lost a lot of stuff moving on from a really bad part of my life, including all my personal shit.

DiNoScope: i dont have any files with dates and etc. since they got deleted before i could grab them.

GodOfArrows: dude

GodOfArrows: ill help you find your stuff

GodOfArrows: we should get TForce to help

GodOfArrows: this is his jam

DiNoScope: maybe in the future

DiNoScope: im going to bbl

GodOfArrows: headache again, right

DiNoScope: yeah

DiNoScope: btw, im not mad at you, im mad at FiZone

GodOfArrows: ill try to talk to her

GodOfArrows: she does that because shes worried

DiNoScope: tell her to keep her nose out of my fucking business

GodOfArrows: how about i make that sound nicer

DiNoScope: go ahead

\--

Saberial enters the docking bay where Teep’s ship is located. Teep had sent her the coordinates to arrive if she’d needed a lift. Of course, that’d happened before the fight. Their ship is still docked, the lone Dahl fighter as quiet as their owner.

When Saberial circles the side searching for a visible hatch, intending to knock on it, she expects the ship to fire up its engines and blast off. When nothing happens, she risks knocking, rapping three times for good measure. The sound echoes across the bay. It disturbs a couple of nightjars that flutter through the open hole in the roof.

Teep isn’t here. If they’re hiding inside, Saberial doesn’t blame them for not wanting to meet her face to face. Saberial rolls on her heels, sticking around for five whole minutes before giving up. 

The night is freezing, frost coating all the surfaces it can reach. Saberial hopes that Teep has enough warmth to survive. Still, she withdraws the locked package hotplate from her inventory and leaves it by their ship.

A week of returning and attempting to knock on the ship yields nothing. The package with the hotplate is still there, a thin layer of ice having developed on it. 

Teep doesn’t even show up online. It’s as if they’ve just vanished into thin air, in spite of their ship remaining in the docking bay. The fact that their ship hasn’t been dismantled yet or scrapped for parts tells her that they’re still alive to pay for the bay.

They have to be. Panda’s just as baffled by their lack of presence, forgoing all resentment to ask her where they’ve disappeared to. She doesn’t know, but the idea of Teep meeting some end out there and on such bad terms with her is horrible. Even everyone in the group is concerned. 

TForce’s proposed sending out a distress beacon to their ECHO so that they can home in on it; provided said ECHO is turned on, that is.

Saberial really doesn’t want to risk invading Teep’s privacy, so she’d taken it upon herself to play watcher.

So she takes to loitering outside of the ship for Teep to return, if they ever do. After every night of vigil watch, it hurts her to report to everyone else that there’s no sign of Green yet. Nobody says it’s her fault they vanished; at least, not openly. She knows Panda is one who’s the most upset, loitering past their usual bedtime to help her work out where Green might have gone.

Today, Saberial’s sipping from a thermos, one hand jammed inside of her jacket pocket. The coffee inside is doing wonders to keep her from nodding off, filling her veins with caffeine for the next hour or so.

She’s currently wearing the same jacket Teep had bought her for her birthday. By now, it’s been repaired five times; she loves it too much to throw it out. It’ll get worn until it falls apart and every single time it does, she’ll find someone to sew it back together again, even if she has to pay a fortune.

Teep  _ will  _ return to their ship. No mercenary would abandon their home for any reason, not unless they’re a heartless monster.

Movement at the edge of the docking bay registers in her peripheral vision. Saberial seals and drops the empty thermos into her inventory, stepping back into the shadows to hide herself. If it's a prowler looking to break into the ship, they’d better have second thoughts.

The figure is limping, a hand held to their side, dragging one leg along the ground. It looks painful enough to make Saberial inwardly wince, sending her sympathies before she remembers that they’re intruding.

She steps out of her hiding place, drawing a gun. The figure’s already drawn their own. In spite of their injuries, it’s being held up without wavering the slightest bit. The light of the moon glances off the metal of the roof, illuminating Teep’s form.

There is so much blood on their chest and arm, as shiny as the frost all over the metal floor of the bay.

> i fucked up, okay

> got shot and stuck the landing when escaping

Forget everything; Saberial’s already helping them inside of their ship once the hatch’s flipped open. Has Teep always been this light? She’d never paid much attention to the skeletal edges of their body before, professing to a stranger’s view of their body despite being close friends with them. 

This the first time she’s ever properly held them, noticing that Teep shied away from any sort of intimate physical contact unless they decided to initiate it (like a hug).

Teep’s breathing is controlled, every inhale and exhale a steady rhythm contrasting with the frenzied race that’s her heart. The blood rush to the head paints her world with a shade of fear at one of her worst anxieties materialised.

This isn’t the first time they’ve fucked up then, to demonstrate exceptional control over their own pain. If it’s because Saberial is here, she feels obliged to tell them to drop the act. Only Teep handling that badly prevents her, as they tended to when given a direct order.

She’d forgotten about their polarising reactions to those, having pored over her own memory of the argument to realise that she should have phrased her concerns better.

Come to think of it, this marks the first time she’s set foot in Teep’s ship. Teep’s ship is of Dahl make, which meant that it’s built for the express purposes of being able to shoot down other ships before they could get a shot in.

Without exception, Teep’s ship reflects that, a sleek, compact war machine that promised to hit back twice as hard and in the exact same spot. That’s on the outside. The interior of the ship is another matter. 

A barrenness dominates. There is  _ nothing  _ of Teep’s existence dangling from, spread across or taped up on the inner walls of the ship. Nothing is scattered all over the floor. There’s zilch occupying every inch of possible space to indicate that someone is living here.

No clothes are left out to dry. No trophies, photos, newspaper cuttings, posters or proud memories. There’s no furniture aside from a row of storage units lining the walls, a cot and blankets. Even the blankets lack personality, existing as sheets of fabric cast in only one color: a miserly grey that makes her think of spaces to put her head down and wish to stop existing.

Teep leaves her to settle onto the cot with their damaged leg extended out. All Saberial can think of is how they don’t fit the space they’ve made for themselves, a piece that desperately wanted to fit in and couldn’t, at the same time. It’s as if Teep has no idea whether or not to exist.

It explained everything. It explained nothing. It didn’t need to.

Teep did not look as empty as they feel, but she is standing in the middle of all the emptiness that makes her want to rip it all away, even if she has to pin them down and scream in their face ‘why would you do this to yourself?’. She has a feeling that Teep would let her if she did.

She mumbles: “I’m sorry.”

> for what?

Teep’s feeling along their own side to scout out the potential damage. By the looks of their boots and pants, they’ve been on the move for a while. Both items are stained with a layer of mud so thick that Teep's left a breadcrumb trail all the way to the hatch.

The way Teep is holding themself is indicative of someone who hasn’t slept once in the past week; their movements are jerky one moment, fluid in the next, like an animation missing several crucial frames. An exhausted edge links their movements together, detectable in the lag time of a second. 

It makes Saberial’s head and heart ache at the same time, to see them in this condition.

“For trying to make you quit.” The admission dislodges her heart from where it sat in her chest. Her heart’s no longer undergoing house arrest, falling past its default threshold, sinking lower than that point. Her gut might as well be quicksa.

> no hard feelings

Teep’s head tilts up to take in her crestfallen appearance, turning away to inspect their arm once they see that she’s fallen silent. 

She realises they’re waiting for her to leave so they can heal themself. She doesn’t want to leave them like this. Perhaps they know, either too polite to tell her to bugger off or would feel that it’d be awkward to opt for the direct approach.

> im starting to see why you wanted me to quit, though

> all this blood loss fucking sucks

“Don’t joke about things like that,” Saberial chastises, gently, so they’re not inclined to misconstrue her words.

> jokes are the only thing I can do right now

> i can do knock knock ones instead if you want

“Why do you have to use humour?” She’s on the verge of shouting again, restraining only because it’s not right to shout at a wounded person, and a friend at that.

> because i got flak for it a long time ago

> had too much of it back then, paid the price and one day, i had enough

> you should have seen their faces when i stopped talking

> they thought they broke me

> im just making up for lost time, really

“So you can talk?”

> not any m o

“Teep?” Saberial is by the cot the second Teep doubles over, their gloves clutching one side of their body. 

Red is crawling through the fabric, leaving its mark wherever it can. She doesn’t know where it’s coming from, nor if she can actually touch Teep to help. They may not want her to touch them again. Other people have have gladly let her rip off their clothes. With Teep, it’s different. It’s always different, when it came to them.

She hates it. She likes it. Why can’t she ever agree on one opinion of them? Half the time, she wants to shelter them; the other half is spent wanting to give them a good kick in the teeth.

Teep guesses her desire to help using their uncanny knack of knowing what others wanted without needing words.

> be a dear and fetch me an anshin syringe from the medkit, would you

Saberial needs no pointing to be directed on where the syringe is. As eerily plain as the room is, she finds the medkit hanging off a hook on the wall. Rifling through its ordered compartments gifts her with the precious item.

It’s brought over. Teep takes it from her. Saberial returns to the opened medkit, intent on giving them a semblance of privacy to undress if they have to. 

She’s staring down a storage unit when her imagination (like a playfully chaotic pup) helpfully drops a blank canvas on which to sketch on. It can’t be helped that she wants to see what’s underneath all those layers.

Apparently, Teep needs no such privacy.

> im not stripping or anything

> but you can keep your back turned

> done

Saberial turns around to see Teep holding the syringe in one hand. They’ve unzipped their jacket, revealing to her the clothes they wear underneath: a long-sleeved shirt with a t-shirt (tagged with ‘QUARTER-DEATH 3’) over the top, both items drenched with metallic smelling crimson.

One side of the shirt is rumpled, likely pulled back down in haste. Teep despawns the syringe by tossing it over one shoulder.

“How did this happen?” Saberial reminds herself to stay as calm as possible. Blood is nothing new. Someone she’s accustomed to seeing not injured is not the end of the world. It’s taking a significant amount of effort for her mind to think otherwise, though.

> vertiigo

> i fought them

> and got away 

> i hurt them though

> not badly but

> well

> see for yourself

She hasn’t glanced at the chat since she stepped into Teep’s ship. Finding Teep injured had derailed that usual habit. 

Sure enough, well over a hundred messages await her in the group chat. Most of them are Vertiigo complaining about their broken arm, collarbone and nose, and how the overflowing, crowded hospital is forcing them to wait in the hallway.

On the other hand, Teep had walked away simply bleeding out, a limp and nothing more than a few scratches. She has to admit that Vertiigo is no pushover when it came to their skill. Perhaps Teep has a chance of surviving what’s coming. 

It can’t deny that this is simply the beginning.

She doesn’t want to think about it, not here, not now, confronted with someone who is likely to brush off her concerns, like during the first time she’d tried to talk to them.

She’d promised Panda she wouldn’t. It’s hard to do that when the reality of that is sitting before her, trying to mop up the damage they’ve done with a rag torn from a blanket.

Saberial chats with Teep about their next meeting, avoiding all talk of Vertiigo’s recovery, skirting all topics involving their respective lifestyles until Teep tires.

She leaves, feeling that she could have done more to help them. The image of Teep limping towards her plays out in her mind, looping and always cutting on the part where they’re curling up on their cot, waiting her to leave so they can fully tend to their injuries.

If Teep can damage Vertiigo to that extent without much effort, what could they do to Panda?

\--

GodOfArrows: dude

GodOfArrows: are you okay

DiNoScope: i fucking had to get a new cot

DiNoScope: bled out on my old one

DiNoScope: ruined a perfectly good blanket too

GodOfArrows: well shit

DiNoScope: job went bad

DiNoScope: not as bad as vertiigos one

GodOfArrows: yeah

GodOfArrows: vertiigo will be fine

GodOfArrows: just needs some reconstructive surgery and hell be right as rain

DiNoScope: do you want to buy him a stripper and send it to his room while hes streaming

GodOfArrows: fuck yeah

DiNoScope: okay

DiNoScope: done

GodOfArrows: tune in now

DiNoScope: i am

DiNoScope: wait for it

GodOfArrows: HERE IT GOES

DiNoScope: this is the greatest prank we have ever played

GodOfArrows: im in tears

GodOfArrows: hes so confused

GodOfArrows: but turned on

GodOfArrows: those are his actual words

GodOfArrows: i shit you not

DiNoScope: the tight pants were a nice touch

\--

Panda eyes up the games store as they would a prospective target listed in their bounty book. No other opportunity will be granted. It’s now or never. Only two copies of the game remain in the whole galaxy; the thing about working with bounties is that Panda’s free time is virtually nonexistent. 

They miss the good old days all they had to look forward to was they could head back to their ship, shower all the gore off so that it didn’t turn their hair pink, throw on some civvies and put their feet up for a good session of containing to blast people in the face with a gun. Or whatever happens to strike their fancy at the time.

They’re not the only person who misses all their hardcore gaming times. Saberial is still fighting her way up back up through the ranks, even if that means she has to punch more people in the face more than ever. Vertiigo’s gone in for extra surgery and a checkup. TForce is TForce, a forceful personality with a tendency for hilarious outbursts of profanity and stories. InTheLittleWood is as cheery as ever. 

Their group is as close as ever, albeit time to meet up with all of them is growing sparse. The person Panda misses most of all is Green. Green’s been distant lately, moving from location to location as their job dictated. Panda misses when they used to troll each other, infuriating everybody and each other in the process. Fuck the shit that went down after the cruiser retrieval mission.

Arguing their way out of any punishment for tossing a job back in their clan’s face is akin to spitting in their client’s one. Given where that job had came from, Panda isn’t the last bit sorry; no, it’d felt  _ great,  _ airing out every major problem they’d had. Other people hadn’t taken it so well. Disgraced but proud of their decision, Panda had walked out of the meeting room with their head held high, beaming.

The feeling is almost as good as kicking Green’s ass (which happened a lot more than their group thinks; Green played unusually chill when it came to playing with everyone else but Panda).

Out of habit, Panda checks their ECHO for any pending invites from InTheLittleWood. Nope, nothing. That’s fine, seeing as it’s probably super late on Pandora, as far as Panda understands. They’ve got a few hours of reprieve before meeting up with a sheriff to collect their next dossier of targets. They’re shoving their ECHO device back into their pocket when someone brushes past them to exit the game store. Panda could have reached out a hand to touch them.

“Sorry.” Panda barely peers at the offender, glimpsing a dark green jacket out of the corner of their eye. They’re more interested in grabbing the last physical collector’s copy of the game off the nearby shelf, infinitely pleased that they got here in time.

Pre-orders aren't usually their style but this one has a bonus DLC that Panda adores to death. It’s worth shelling out a couple hundred dollars for; the other nice thing about bounty hunting is that they’re rewarded for tryharding. Targets being brought in alive equated to a bigger reward.

The one at the top of the list is Teep, a long-range sniper with a knack for pulling off the cleanest kills using a sniper rifle or a pistol. A  _ pistol _ . 

Panda hadn’t believed it, not until they’d seen Teep in action. Other mercenaries are paranoid about sticking their heads out when they hear that Teep is on the prowl. If someone could neatly cap a stranger in the head at long-range and short-range, most mercenaries (never knowing where the next bullet would come from) got the willies and called it quits. 

Not Panda. Panda will stick to the job for any amount of pay, provided they had a shot at bringing in Teep. That’s Panda’s only condition, really and the sole reason for why they’ve been so busy. People considered them as one of the few mercenaries who had a fair chance against Teep.

Hold it, the dark green jacket is familiar. They’ve seen it somewhere before (after chasing it so many times, only for it to slip out of their grasp every single time).

The stranger hasn’t budged from their spot. They slowly turn away, taking one step forwards (probably hoping to avoid a scene) when Panda whirls around.

“You!” They bellow; the game is lobbed into their inventory for safe-keeping. A notification for the payment is ignored. Panda is more interested in Teep.

Teep’s already achieved a head start, having broken into a sprint the instant Panda turned around. Well, unfortunately for them, Panda’s just as fast, courtesy of a childhood of running constant drills to build up their stamina, maneuverability and speed.

Here is what usually happens on these chases: Teep will eventually find some way of giving Panda the slip. Panda will spend hours brooding at yet losing their number one target. As the chases grow in length, intensity, style and jukes, Panda feels that Teep is always one step ahead of them, no matter where or when the chases happen.

Never before in Panda’s life has someone ever pushed them to want someone so badly. That sounds pretty fucking wrong, but that’s how Panda feels towards Teep. 

After Vertiigo’s temporary retirement from any field work (a broken arm took a while to heal properly), Panda’s taken up the mantle in the name of hunting down the fucker responsible.

Teep is going down, one way or another. It’s just that Panda is having trouble getting their hands on the fucker, that’s all. 

Panda’s not going to stop until they succeed. The vicious drive to avenge Vertiigo and a number of other people is fuel for the fire, powering Panda through the agonising aftermath of having to deal with muscles overtaxed from sprinting, leaping, ducking and rolling for over an hour.

How Teep smoothly executed all those motions without breaking a sweat and making it look effortless is unnatural. Panda doubts Teep is human to begin with. They suspect that under all the face coverings, there exists only an entity passing as human: a cold-blooded, soulless, killing machine.

No human could stand to leave their bystanders needlessly suffering in agony as they took out a target. Wherever Teep went, casualties and collateral damage amassed like seeds of chaos sprouting in the aftermath. Many of them have been people Panda once knew or talked with on a daily basis. 

With how notorious Teep’s become and as targets grew increasingly paranoid that they might be next, more mercenaries found employment at the risk of encountering Teep. The more people that got involved, the higher casualties that happened if Teep did really show up. 

So far, the current record is about thirty people landing in intensive care for pistol shots to various areas of the body for getting in Teep’s way.

A bottleneck for missions these days consists of rookie mercenaries willing to risk it for a biscuit and the hardened veterans (including Saberial and Panda) who grimly took the mission in the hopes of ending the killing spree.

No worthwhile mercenary or bounty hunter would ever stoop to that level of cruelty, harming innocents to get to their quarry. A rule overlaps here between the two occupations: shoot not to kill when bringing in someone, shoot to make them understand why it’s pointless to resist.

Panda adheres to that rule (the only rule they found worth following, basically), wanting to prove that they’re different to Teep. Mercenaries only get one chance to prove themselves. Bounty hunters got more than one. Panda fully intends to use every single one to hunt down Teep.

Justice  _ will _ prevail.

For Vertiigo. For TForce (whose intense efforts at gathering information will not be wasted). For FiZone (though she remains safe and sound, much to Panda’s eternal relief). For everyone who ever suffered at Teep’s hands. For the people who had to die in the name of money at Teep’s hands. For justice.

The mall is packed with shoppers, trolleys, decorations, stands and benches that prove no trouble to Panda. Months of encounters with Teep’s built up their experience in navigating foreign terrain, from city rooftops to ruined warehouses to expensive riverside apartments. 

Without needing to use their other eye, Panda can practically pick out the course that Teep is about to take, following it as closely as possible. The worst thing to do would be to lose them right now, in a public place.

As the two draw closer to the centre of the mall, the thicker the crowds swell, swallowing any and all those who needed to spend. Panda is here to hunt. Teep is here to escape. Two outliers barrel on through the masses. Little by little, the gap between them shrinks as the routes get blocked off by the mall’s shifting terrain.

Panda stumbles as a trolley narrowly misses them, swearing coarsely; by the time they’ve looked up, Teep’s vaulted over the side of the railing to drop several levels down.

Sick of being blocked in, Panda draws a gun, eliciting screams and a parting of the crowd. Panda dives forward into the gap, arms jabbing more people out of the way as they shove towards the railing.

Gun still in hand, Panda scowls. They launch themself off the railing, the three floor drop pulling their hood out and billowing their jacket loose. As far they’re concerned, fall damage is not a thing that happened to them; it happened to other people, like food poisoning, and living with two perfectly functional eyes.

It’s less crowded on the underlevels, since the shops here are smaller, filling specific niches. A comic store, adult shop, vintage vases, plus a whole bunch of other oddities that aren’t worthy of being checked out. Teep can’t have gone far. Panda eyes the people around them scampering away at the sight of the shotgun.

A tall stranger nearby shifts, browsing their ECHO device in a manner that suggests boredom of the ‘watching grass grow’ kind. Panda doesn’t mind abusing the gun to ask for help if had to come to that. Diplomacy is worth a shot.

“Hey, which way did the person who fell from up there go?” Panda demands once they’re close enough. Politely, of course. Guns can only get them so far when asking people for directions.

The stranger nonchalantly raises a gloved hand to point, never taking their eyes off their ECHO device. Panda eyes them for any sign of a liar at work; no other distinct features stand out, aside from the fatigued smudges under their eyes. An old scar adorns the spot above their left eyebrow, hunting at a former military allegiance. Their face appears honest enough.

Acknowledging that Panda isn’t budging, they pointedly jab their finger in the direction they’re currently indicating.

“You sure?” The finger continues to direct Panda towards the department stores. “Thanks,” Panda bids, dashing off with a grateful wave of their hand.

Teep waits until Panda’s thrown themself into the crowd teeming at all the mid-year sales. It’ll take time for Panda to realise that they’ve been fooled. By then, Teep will be off this planet. Fuck the physical copy of the game they picked up, it wasn’t worth it to run into Panda.

Hood back on, plus goggles and face wrappings done up, Teep departs the mall. Well, they have the game, they might as well mock John for not owning it yet. 

Their ship’s parked on the upper levels, hidden by its active camouflage. Teep begins to make their way up to it, avoiding the crowded routes and another incident. That had been cutting it far too close for their liking. Having to briefly reveal their face to Panda had been a risky choice, and one that Teep would have preferred to avoid altogether. 

That makes Panda the first person to see their face in years, and it gets under Teep’s skin. All it does is add to the growing impulse to off Panda. But really, these days, nobody else offered them such a challenge.

\--

With every chase, the window for escape narrows until Teep isn’t even sure that simply giving Panda the slip is an option they can keep taking. Panda possessed the uncanny ability to predict where they’d show up; it’s almost as if Panda can peer into their innermost thoughts to see what job Teep is about to accept and show up to block them.

It’s been making Teep’s accuracy suffer, forcing them to pursue other, creative ways of killing their marks without killing Panda in the process.

It’s a shame that Panda had to drag other people into it on their quest to bring them in. Teep considers it to be a stupid decision, eliminating bystanders or third parties to reach their goal can’t always be avoided.

Teep’s aware that they can’t keep up the dodging forever. Sooner or later, Panda will corner them and the jig will be up. As much as Teep enjoys losing the pursuit, avoiding contact with Panda is crucial to survival. Panda can and will do serious damage up close, which is why keeping such a distance from them is important. 

Also, no bounty will accept Teep as being handed over alive. Dead is the only state the law will accept.

They’ve been alive for far too long and caused far too much damage to warrant any sort of trial or pardon.

In all honesty, Teep prefers it that way.

\--

GodOfArrows: hey

DiNoScope: hey

GodOfArrows: you havent been playing much lately but i see you online all the time

DiNoScope: i havent been feeling very well to talk a lot

DiNoScope: sorry

GodOfArrows: is it the insomnia

DiNoScope: yeah

GodOfArrows: dude dont apologise

GodOfArrows: youre good

GodOfArrows: ive been busy tracking down people so ive been handing over stuff to InTheLittleWood and TForce

DiNoScope: insomnias been pretty bad lately

DiNoScope: havent been accepting any jobs because of it

GodOfArrows: i wish i could help more

GodOfArrows: do you take sleeping pills

DiNoScope: i hate taking medication of any kind

DiNoScope: had bad reactions and side effects to a lot of stuff ive tried in the past

GodOfArrows: is that why you always stay on so late

DiNoScope: yeah

DiNoScope: cant think of anything else to do with my time

DiNoScope: im tired all the time but i cant do shit about it because my brain is shit

DiNoScope: ill legit pass out once ive had enough

GodOfArrows: you want to go for a round or chill

GodOfArrows: i know its tough but

GodOfArrows: i want to help you

DiNoScope: chill

DiNoScope: i guess

GodOfArrows: you know what we could do

DiNoScope: if its what i think it is

DiNoScope: fuck no

GodOfArrows: my singing isnt that bad

DiNoScope: john 

DiNoScope: you are tone deaf

GodOfArrows: ive been working on it, i swear!

DiNoScope: im going offline

GodOfArrows: LET ME SERENADE YOU TO SLEEP

DiNoScope: FUCK OFF

GodOfArrows: YOU ARE MY HEART

\- / / DiNoScope has removed GodOfArrows from the chat. / / -

\--

GodOfArrows: green

GodOfArrows: if youre there

GodOfArrows: i need help

GodOfArrows: im trapped in the tmp on hecatoncheires

GodOfArrows: broken my leg, arm and idk what else

GodOfArrows: or tell FiZone to pick me up

GodOfArrows: and fast

GodOfArrows: i dont know how long my distress signal will last so

DiNoScope: shit

DiNoScope: hold on

DiNoScope: dont die

GodOfArrows: im trying not to

GodOfArrows: just in case

GodOfArrows: <3

\- / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / -

\- / / GodOfArrows is now idle. / / -

\--

DiNoScope: fucking fuck

FiZone: whats wrong

DiNoScope: panda saw my face

FiZone: :o

FiZone: what did they see

FiZone: and why are you so upset

DiNoScope: nobody else has ever seen my face before

FiZone: why

DiNoScope: youve seen my bounty

DiNoScope: if people knew

DiNoScope: there goes all my privacy

DiNoScope: its recruiters online and bounty hunters and mercs irl

DiNoScope: it sucks

DiNoScope: but thats not important

FiZone: so whats wrong this time

DiNoScope: i also fucked up horribly

DiNoScope: i might have also killed panda

DiNoScope: aka

DiNoScope: john

FiZone: !

FiZone: WHERE

FiZone: AND HOW

FiZone: GIVE ME THE COORDINATES

FiZone: RIGHT NOW

FiZone: OR I WILL FIND YOU AND BEAT THEM OUT OF YOU

FiZone: TEEP

DiNoScope: fuck

DiNoScope: hold on

DiNoScope: typing with blood loss isnt easy

\- / / DiNoScope has shared coordinates with FiZone. / / -

DiNoScope: they might still be alive

DiNoScope: level one of tediore manufacturing plant

DiNoScope: they fell into the lower levels

FiZone: you

FiZone: also, how did you know john is panda

FiZone: nvm

FiZone: we will talk later

DiNoScope: just fucking go and find john already

\- / / FiZone has logged out. / / -

\--

GodOfArrows: i am in the fuckin hospital and my leg is broken and i am on painkillers

GodOfArrows: i am pain

GodOfArrows: fear me, bitches

Vertiigo: dude

Vertiigo: wtf

TForce: wtf

GodOfArrows: i

GodOfArrows: don't thing they can fishes 

GodOfArrows: can fix my leg is what i meant

GodOfArrows: thank fuck for speech to text

InTheLittleWood: can we sign your cast

GodOfArrows: i dont think you can sign a leg thats completely broken

GodOfArrows: i have no kneecap

GodOfArrows: the bones too broken

GodOfArrows: too many pieces

GodOfArrows: in too many places

GodOfArrows: this fucking sucks

TForce: how did that happen?

TForce: you can’t just break a leg like that

GodOfArrows: i fell and almost died

GodOfArrows: because of someone named ‘teep’

\- / / DiNoScope has left the chat. / / -

TForce: welp

TForce: there goes green’s connection

GodOfArrows: im arranging surgery right now

GodOfArrows: tell green to get the fuck back in here 

GodOfArrows: i need some company while i wait around in this stupid hospital

Vertiigo: new episode of got is out if you want to watch it

GodOfArrows: sure load it up now

GodOfArrows: this fucking sucks

GodOfArrows: i dont even know if theyll need to replace the whole leg from the knee down

GodOfArrows: its going to take months for me to walk again without limping everywhere

GodOfArrows: plus they need to put some stuff into my spine and arms

GodOfArrows: bc those are damaged so badly too

GodOfArrows: i cant feel some parts of my body

InTheLittleWood: :(

FiZone: bbl too

FiZone: i got a call to make

FiZone: ill drop by again once i have time

\--

FiZone: green?

DiNoScope: dont say anything.

FiZone: i wasnt going to!

DiNoScope: you could have told me john and panda were the same person.

FiZone: i doubt youd have believed me.

\- / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / -

FiZone: green

FiZone: what are you going to do?

\- / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / -

DiNoScope: i.

DiNoScope: dont know.

DiNoScope: ill figure something out.

FiZone: dont go offline

FiZone: john doesnt hate you

DiNoScope: look back at the chat.

DiNoScope: look at the scans.

DiNoScope: look at what johns saying.

DiNoScope: and then you can try to tell me that you dont hate me either for doing that to them.

DiNoScope: especially since you found them in the first place.

\- / / FiZone is now idle. / / -

DiNoScope: i need to think.

DiNoScope: tell john i moved or something.

DiNoScope: thanks for everything.

DiNoScope: goodbye.

\- / / DiNoScope is now offline. / / -

\- / / FiZone is no longer idle. / / -

FiZone: GREEN

FiZone: YOU FUCKER

FiZone: COME BACK

FiZone: YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE LIKE THAT

FiZone: I SAID WED TALK

FiZone: THIS ISNT TALKING

FiZone: THIS IS RUNNING AWAY

FiZone: fuck

FiZone: i knew this would happen

FiZone: why wouldnt you two listen to me?

\--

In the atmosphere above the Pandoran desert, a shooting star descends. Dark gray smoke trails like a kite’s ribbon from the punctured hull. Life support shuts off to preserve what little power remains.

Inside the ship, Teep pushes up their goggles to rub at their groggy eyes, still unable to believe that they’d been able to outmaneuver Panda just outside the last of the rim worlds.

A dogfight, the fiercest one in Teep’s life yet, had ensued. Panda lived up to the rumors of their tenacity (in spite of their healing leg injury) to bring in someone no matter what; this time, it’s personal. For their tenacity, they’d delivered a lucky shot. That one shot had melted a hole through the engine Teep needed to traverse deep space. Only after did Teep succeed in escaping did they find that out.

Who’d told Panda that Teep were leaving the system? Well, never mind, Panda hadn’t take out life support or the short-range engines. Shortcutting using the drive isn’t the only way to travel through space. 

So long as Teep woke up occasionally to check the auto-pilot’s course and traveled in measured increments, resting at every pit stop to refuel and make emergency repairs, they estimated that they could make it to Pandora before the last engines died.

Between all that, Teep rested. The last two fights had taken so much out of them. They needed the time to heal (not including physical wounds).

The bullet wound in their leg dragged them into a bedridden, delirious fever once they’d dug the lump of metal out using whatever had been on hand at the time. 

Teep thinks, no, assumes a scalpel had been involved, judging by the giant mess of bloody clothes and rags found next to the cot once their fever had died down. The scalpel and a tiny fragment had been dropped into an empty matchbox.

Usually, Teep spent that recovery time on the ECHOnet. Even when in the ship, they never lounged around without their goggles. This time, Teep chose to be alone, drifting in and out of sleeplessness (or sleep?), too burnt out to get fully dressed. 

The goggles are left on the recharge pad, the internal light flickering green like a lightbug trapped in a glass jar, signalling endlessly into the dark for help that’ll never arrive.

Teep curls up under the blankets, feeling the bleak emptiness press up against them like a distant lover. Numbness occupied the inside of their skull, eliminating their ability to feel altogether. 

It’s not a new occurrence but the last time that this had happened had been leaving the compound during all the fighting, never looking back at what could have been...

(Did Saberial message them to warn them of Panda’s approach, or had that been a byproduct of the blood loss and feverish nightmares?)

(John is alive. But angry. So very angry.)

(Fuck, why is it so  _ cold _ ?)

The planet below is sleepier than the worlds Teep typically preferred. Bustling worlds that never slept, thriving with all manner of life offered the perfect camouflage. Here, they’ll probably stand out or fit right in. It makes no difference either way.

Teep is here to die. Wait. ‘Die’ implies no longer living. What Teep would prefer is to ‘not exist’. That’s an important distinction, preventing Teep from taking a gun to their own head for the time being.

On this world, they will meet their end. Someday, Panda will figure it out. Teep made sure of that. Until then, it’s time to find something to occupy their time, beginning with trying to land the ship.

Their ship touches down behind a series of canyons besides a gully. The exhausts belched out smoke, ejecting it as much as possible to avoid allowing the inside of the ship to suffocate along with its sole occupant. The heat sinks have been taken offline to save on power.

Like any other freelancer, Teep is attached to their ship. Not in the traditional sense. Teep viewed their ship as a machine used to travel from place to place, a temporary abode to rest their head, refuel and refill their inventory before heading out again. Still, Teep knew every corner, crevice, nook and cranny there is to know inside of the ship.

Packing consists of systematically cataloging all items aboard the ship, leaving what can’t be carried and taking what can be. The laptop can stay where it is (under the cot with the three million folded blankets), as with the reserve cache of guns.

Weapon maintenance kit, clothes, cash box, anything of practical value can come with them. They have inventory space to burn through. The whole process takes a little under half an hour.

Normally, they’d check their messages before heading out. This time, Teep doesn’t bother, ignoring their ECHO device. As much as they’d like to leave the device behind, it has other uses.

As Saberial likely noted, a scarcity of personal belongings existed within Teep’s living space. The sentimental habit of accumulating anything that held personal value is rarely exercised. Rather, Teep had never placed any great stock in doing that, considering the risky nature of their profession.

The ship now rendered as empty as it could be, Teep pulls on the goggles, the overlay automatically switching on night vision.

They bought the ship shortly after they stopped talking. It stood for the beginning of a new life. It stood for their  _ freedom _ , even if that freedom had been forcibly wrought with their own two hands. Staying would have invited death to be hushed up. 

Back then, Teep’s sense of self-preservation had convinced them to leave, an action that they’d never regretted. That sense is now diminished so that all that remained is a flicker that could be made to disappear with a mere puff of breath, or by reaching over to get their pistol out, aim the barrel at their own head and pull the trigger (and it could be years before anybody would find their body).

No. Not yet. Suicide is the coward’s way out. Ironic, seeing as Teep’s been running their whole life, never stopping for long. 

This is the final stretch before the finish line and they intend to finish the journey, even if they have to fucking now crawl there on broken hands and knees, and then they can sign out for real. Panda (and if not, anybody else will do) had better be waiting at the finish line to finish what they’d started.

They can start by finishing packing. Any mementoes are piled into the recesses of their inventory. They’ll look through it later, when the numbness won’t take over if they did, making them watch from the backseat of their mind as the urge to discard those items gnawed at them. 

See, that wasn’t so hard (because next to taking out a bullet, anything else seems laughably easy).

It’s time to say goodbye.

Teep shuts down the ship, performing the last of the repairs out of obligation. They’re no trained engineer so all the repairs so far have been hasty, a shoddy amalgamation of tips and tricks passed to them via exchange of money at the nearest mechanic’s shop to avoid being ratted out on. Theory doesn’t replace practical, hands-on experience.

The ship deserved someone much better to take care of it. Teep supposes that they could sell it off. For now, they’re reluctant to do so, especially on Pandora. It’s earned its rest, or at least until Teep found somebody worthy to take care of it in their place. They have enough funds saved up to keep them afloat for a while without pawning off their belongings, especially a Dahl stealth fighter.

They give it a final, affectionate pat on hull as thanks for everything. 

Teep takes their first step onto Pandora. The Pandoran evening is cool with a hint of heat that’d have drawn out sweat if the sun is still in the sky. The air would have spread an amber, sand-like dust all over Teep’s figure, repelled only by the shield they’re wearing. 

If they’d been so inclined, they would have taken off their goggles and wrappings to feel the breeze on their face. The last time the wrappings had been torn off, Panda had been trying to kill them. The last item to have touched Teep’s skin was the edge of a knife, the tip disappearing into their wound to try to dig out the bullet.

Tilting their head to consider Elpis, Teep closes the hatch. They hitch up the covered sniper rifle higher up on their back, contemplating their ship. Memories crowd at the edge of their mind, hoping that they’ll be picked for replay.

Reaching into their HUD, Teep engaged the ship’s cloaking mechanism. Teep seldom used it, only because it drew more attention than the other way around. Memories pull back into the depths of their consciousness once the attention shifts.

Teep starts to walk, heading for the nearest town as per the highway signs. On a planet like this, there’s always work to be found, and work will keep them busy for a while yet. The end is nowhere in sight. Teep wishes that it’s within reach, or possible to pull closer by their hand.

\--

To reiterate, Teep preferred cities. They particularly like the ones that fused into one massive entity that ate into the center of a planet, rising above the skyline to form a second sky. Blending in is achieved with little effort. 

Here, Teep left a trail; a hard to track down one, but nonetheless, a trail. It will be years before Panda (or Saberial, plus anyone else) figures out they came to this planet. It’s doable but not happening anytime soon.

By now, Panda will be undergoing rigorous physical therapy. Saberial will be there to help them, as with the others. Green has no place amongst them, once a distant outsider, always a distant outsider.

Teep hiked to the nearest town, roughing it along the way. In acquiring their ship, Teep surrendered all knowledge they needed to brave the wilderness. Now they swept all the dust off a part of their mind they’d neglected for a few years, blowing it all off to sieve through the packed layers of knowledge to scourge up vital bits. 

It’s a bit like browsing a secondhand bookstore without wanting to dig deep for the gems; skip all the ones with covers guaranteed to make one yawn and head straight towards the ones promising an excellent time and one could do no wrong.

In the case of Teep’s memory, Teep employed utilitarian precision to grab exactly what they needed, ignoring the hidden treasures and hidden traps, paid and left before the storekeeper could say ‘have a nice day’.

Advertisements or personalised offers found no crack in Teep’s psyche to wriggle into. Getting Teep to even contemplate buying something took an enormous amount of wheedling, pleasing, a fair degree of social manoeuvring plus bribery.

Getting Teep to take up a challenge on the other hand, took such little effort that Panda and Saberial found it laughable. Teep occasionally played into their expectations out of boredom.

At the moment, Teep is currently turning a face into mincemeat. That’s easily accomplished by taking their boot and applying a certain degree of pressure to the person’s shattered nose bone with a thorough left and right motion.

Serves them right for attempting to cheat during a duel over Teep’s sniper rifle. Cheating is not part of their propensity to grief other people. It did not include cheating. 

Everybody knows that freelancers don’t let cheaters off lightly, minus the fact that many freelancers could barely count past ten (and this is generally helped along by the pictures and colors on playing cards). 

Freelancers had  _ standards _ . They could just be a bit loose as to where they began and ended. Like when overcharging for a job or squabbling over rightfully earned loot (i.e., stuff that’s not nailed down).

The person whose face is being macerated makes a pitiful noise like an animal that’s been kicked too many times. Teep delivers one last kick to the underside of their bruised chin. As an afterthought, they pause to methodically wipe their dirtied boot on the person’s shirt. A red footprint is all that remains of their handiwork (aside from the mess of a face).

Aside from the occasional wringing of time noted by the odd job or two, Teep is tired. This is nothing new. Teep’s been tired for years. 

It’s only now that after everything that’d happened so far, the procrastinated exhaustion began to manifest itself as it usually did: intense bouts of sleeplessness that made the world lapse into a state of foggy, headachy consciousness that seemingly dragged on forever, taking with it time and Teep’s sense of self.

The chronic insomnia initially drove Teep to try out the laptop that’d come with the ship. 

Living then (and now) is like having a low electric current pulsing through their head at all hours, even when they wanted it to stop and have a bit of peace and quiet to let their mind rest. It’d made Teep crave a decent distraction between jobs, to hold back on pitching out the laptop.

The laptop had turned out be a decent timewaster where books, parkour, delving into complex subjects (like studying starship engines and explosives), exploring civilisation, constructing and deconstructing weaponry plus doing fuck-all had failed to keep their attention.

Annihilating people for fun got tedious fast when Teep did it for a living. That’s one thing that still holds true. They leave the prick behind in the alley to think twice in the future about cheating.

As much as Teep craved the closed-in walls of their ship (attachment withstanding, it’s nice to have a familiar place to return to, to heal up in and rest), they force themself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. If they stopped, there went the resolve to continue. And continue what else, they ask?

Teep did not know.

Their meandering in the town took them to the bounty board. For a planet expected to be barren of people, the bounty boards clamouring for freelancers to take up missives are packed. Many of them are directed towards people called ‘Vault Hunters’.

With nothing else to do and partially curious about who these people are, Teep took one of the flyers down. People generally caught on quick once Teep pointed at the two words. It’s probably their height and intimidating demeanour that made them cough up answers. And what they found is fascinating.

Vaults. Vault Hunters. Eridians. Treasure. Aliens. Loot. Boring. But the people who chased after all those, not so much. And there’s quite a few hanging around these parts.

The same townsfolk who’d babbled all that jabbered about two Vault Hunters who’d passed through town earlier. If Teep wanted to track them down, head due west until they hit the ridge and hills.

Having nothing else to ask about, Teep readily dismissed them with a wave of their hand, satisfied with the food for thought.

Everything else is inconsequential in the long run. If they got hurt, so be it. If they died,  _ then so be it _ . It’ll be a fitting end.

\--

Half an hour of nonstop walking delivers Teep to the aforementioned ridge carved out of arid hills sparsely layered by tacky vegetation that provided no cover whatsoever. 

Fortunately, compared to Hecatoncheires, Pandora isn’t famed for its thunderstorms that raged for months at a time. After repeated run-ins with skags and calmly tearing them a new mouth to shit out of, Teep suspects death by vicious wildlife is more likely.

Also, Pandora’s long day and night cycle proved no problem for Teep as someone who is intimately familiar with an erratic sleep pattern. Same with the cycles of heat and cold. Suck it up and keep marching, soldier. Bitch one more time and it’s corporal punishment. Here, there is nowhere else for Teep run to.

Dumpy, sloping hills retreated into brown sedimentary flats beaten down by wind, rain and time. Filmy, dried out dust merged with coarse sand, the kind that found its way into places it shouldn’t, like the inside of a boot. The townsfolk hadn’t mentioned a fucking ocean of sand next door. Sand is almost as grating as snow.

A speck of a figure is visible atop the ridge. Teep lowers their sniper rifle. They’ve never been one to judge appearances. Weaponry, on the other hand, warrants it. To Teep, weaponry represented the tools of the trade. Weaponry could be just as telling as a person’s preferred coffee shop or their reputation.

The ragged ends of a dark purple scarf do little to cover the Jakobs shotgun slung on the figure’s back. They might as well be waving their arms and yelling ‘snipe me’. A tanned face set in the sleepy look of someone desiring another few hours of sleep (evoking a twinge of envy from Teep) peers down at the remains of a campfire.

Nobody else is in the area. It must be one of the Vault Hunters. The other one is nowhere to be found. Teep suspects they’re either waiting for an ambush or away. Two against one presents fantastic odds.

Besides, taking out the Vault Hunters from afar eliminates the challenge Teep is here for.

Teep strides up the hill, exchanging the sniper rifle for a pistol. The Vault Hunter backs away, alarmed by the steady approach of footsteps. Up close, the Vault Hunter is taller than they’d initially looked through the scope. A second set of footprints lead away from the campfire.

“What do you want?” The Vault Hunter rasps in a voice that reminded Teep of broken glass (but glass that could still cut). In spite of the glaring daytime sun, a pair of brilliantly lit blue, tired eyes warily regard Teep.

Teep extracts the neatly folded up flyer calling for Vault Hunters, tossing it down onto the ground. It flutters, landing amidst the dust. The Vault Hunter frowns, attempting to parse the meaning of the careless gesture. 

They’re taking too long, so Teep impatiently opts to help them out: by punching them in the shoulder. That’s the custom, yes? The asshole back in town had tried it.

A shield that Teep had suspected not existing (there is dust on the Vault Hunter, for starters) means that the full blow connects. 

The Vault Hunter almost practically scrabbles off the ridge in their desperation to get away from the blow, a hand clamped to their arm. If Teep had a simpler sense of humour, they’d laugh at the haste to get away from the pain. The Vault Hunter seems almost affronted by the directness of the challenge.

Bent on getting what they want, Teep just raises a hand to plainly gesture ‘come get some’.

The Vault Hunter swallows whatever misgivings they have to straighten up, eyes narrowed in irritation. They’d better be as good as the townsfolk said, or else Teep is going to be annoyed.

Wind experimentally nudges the abandoned flyer. Upon seeing that nobody is going to mind, it whips it away.

Teep generously allows the Vault Hunter the first move. The Vault Hunter snatches up the shotgun that Teep had derided earlier, firing off a single shot at Teep’s face. Or where it’d been. Dust flies outwards, off the ridge.

Teep rolls sideways, easing out of it to let off a shot of their own. Both the sounds of gunshots crack like a whip across the open space. The sky should have cracked from how loud the sounds are, almost deafening; Teep’s forgotten what close-range combat is like. They find that they’d missed it.

Thin air meets the shot Teep fired. Well, well, the Vault Hunter vanished in a blur of purple and brown. Teep may be an insomniac of the highest grade but hallucinations or slights of the imagination are not part of the deal. They’re not about to play into that bullshit, starting now.

This is  _ new.  _ Teep trades apathetic boredom for a feeling thawing out of hibernation: anticipation.

Teep senses the change of air behind them, reacting to deliver a punch. The honed reflex has saved their life a couple of times, including breaking Panda’s nose once- their bony knuckles meet the Vault Hunter’s face.

The Vault Hunter makes a pained sound, almost a lewd groan, the momentum snapping their head back. Teep almost thinks of grabbing the scarf to reel them in and let them have it. 

People didn’t think that snipers couldn’t hold their own when confronted at point blank range. Teep always finds that satisfying to disprove. 

Their background hadn’t held back on arming Teep in a variety of ways, including being able to calmly bludgeon someone to death with their fists and leave them writhing in pain on the ground. 

Also, shields might stop damage but it didn’t completely stop momentum. No shields means a world of pain. Teep likes it when their opponents have no shields: their job is almost a walk in the park, then.

The punch staggers the Vault Hunter, who’d clearly intended to shove Teep off the ridge. If the Vault Hunter had been hoping for an easy victory, they’ll have to fucking work for it like everybody else did.

With a grunt, the Vault Hunter arrests their rising hand, the shotgun appearing in it. That shot connects, the spread of bullets scraping off the charge off Teep’s own shield. Not only is the shotgun Jakobs, it’s a peashooter.

Whatever brief anticipation is dashed; Teep drags it back into existence, wanting to draw it out for as long as possible. Perhaps the Vault Hunter has a better weapon on them, waiting for the right moment to spring it. It’s a deliberate trap, one that Teep hopes to trigger soon.

If the shotgun is all that’s being used, then this will be quick. Teep is purposefully going easy on them, letting opportunity after opportunity to end it slide. Evading someone as obstinate as Panda made other fights teeth-grindingly dull in comparison.

Teep counts a total of five shots in the magazine of the shotgun. Two of those have been spent. The third shot slams into Teep’s chest, winding them as dust furiously whirls up from the two of them circling one another. It could have been its own sandstorm. 

For some reason, as cautious as the Vault Hunter is being, it pleases Teep that neither of them are giving in or yielding.

Ash and soot join the flurry; the Vault Hunter’s lobbed a handful at Teep’s face. Teep’s goggles automatically corrects for the disturbed vision, painting the bent Vault Hunter in red.

Teep fires a random shot in their direction, hearing it ping off the ground. It misses the Vault Hunter’s arm by inches. In the commotion, a hand tries to sneakily rip the shield off Teep’s belt. Teep slams the blade of their hand down, hearing a hiss of pain. No touchy. 

In response, the butt of the shotgun cracks against Teep’s shoulder, shoving them back out of reach. 

The red outline besides them wavers, rubber-banding in and out of sight. Teep prepares to elbow them, only to find that they’ve been displaced five hundred metres into the air above the ridge.

Standing tall, the Vault Hunter takes aim at their prone form. Apparently, the Vault Hunter has two-way teleportation. Teep weighs up a few courses of action.

The shot won’t kill Teep, or the fall. The Vault Hunter’s inexperience with tackling someone at short-range is abysmal. Their tenacity and creativity is admirable, however. 

Biting back the wave of queasiness about to throw off their aim, Teep raises the pistol in their hand (fighting both gravity and air resistance wanting to steal the pistol), skipping peering down the scope.

A hair’s adjustment to the left will render the shot non-lethal. Deep breaths. Think of nothing but the target before them. Take the shot when the moment allowed, not a second too late or too soon. It’s all they know (and live for).

Their bullet whizzes past the Vault Hunter’s ear. Any close and it’d have left a scratch. The Vault Hunter recoils, concentration broken as Teep intended. Distraction complete, Teep despawns the pistol, preparing to roll as the ground surges up to meet them- only to be yanked sideways through space.

Thrown off by the teleport, Teep sticks the landing, their shield absorbing most of the impact, but not all of it. The rest morph into spikes that protrude upwards.

Pain ratchets up through Teep’s side, knees and elbows from the botched roll, coating their senses in agony. The carried momentum flings them across the ridge, right into the ground.

They end up on their back, staring up into the sky. The clouds are laughing at them. Somewhere, down below in their chest, their heart has yet to realise that all’s well, upset by the repeated exposure to danger. Some things are still beyond Teep’s control. The ability to remain mute in the face of pain that would have made others scream is one Teep will uphold to their dying breath.

Nothing’s miraculously broken, only bruised. That’s good enough for them. Ignoring the twinges of pain, the potential collapse of their damaged muscles and all thought of desisting, Teep springs onto their feet, determined to finish this.

The Vault Hunter’s too merciful, saving them like that. It’d have been easier to let Teep drop- unless the intention had been to wound Teep that way, seeing as the Vault Hunter had realised that they couldn’t harm or touch Teep with the normal means.

The Vault Hunter’s smartly retreated beyond the campfire, expression tense from fear? Relief? Teep is a master of their own features, not in reading other’s expressions (hidden or not hidden). Intentions are a different matter. Forcibly distancing themselves socially over the years had that detrimental effect. They can only make educated guesses.

Teep and the Vault Hunter resume their stalemate around the campfire. The resettled dust cloud around their ankles, swirling like the eye of a hurricane and they’re at the centre of it.

“Who are you?” The Vault Hunter speaks, their voice no longer raspy, but a controlled calm. Their eyes have an intensity to them that the fight’s brought out.

Teep says nothing for three seconds. The pause annoys the Vault Hunter, until Teep raises a hand to convey that they’re mute. 

Taking it a step further, Teep detaches their shield. Their inventory snatches it up, leaving their hand filled with light, then nothingness. The Vault Hunter’s eyes widen at the willingness to communicate. Or the muteness. Or the fact that Teep is willingly removing their last measure of defense is essentially a suicidal move.

The gun lowers, granting an opening. Had it been anybody else, Teep would have been knocked them down and disarmed them by now. If Teep had been in a sadistic mood, they’d have broken the offender’s arm as well.

Because it’s a Vault Hunter that they’re dealing with, Teep is handing themself over, testing the boundaries of what the Vault Hunter is willing to stoop to, to ensure victory in a duel (though it became something else entirely at some point; Teep isn’t sure what it is now and it bothers them).

Go on, pull that trigger. Make it quick and painless. If it’s anything like the people Teep killed on a regular basis made it out to be, it’ll be over in a heartbeat.

What are they doing. Why are they putting away the gun. What is this  _ bullshit _ . What is this change of heart and why does a tiny part of Teep feel so relieved?

“No, I’m not killing you,” The Vault Hunter decides, ducking their head. Almost guiltily, as though they know what they’re depriving Teep of. 

Blue eyes blink at Teep over the top of the bunched up scarf. Compared to before the fight, the eyes are now full of appraising alertness.

Teep is not so cruel as to goad the Vault Hunter into killing them, not if their spirit isn’t fully in it to begin with. The fight had been a curious event. Still, it hadn’t been enough to abate the apathy that’d come creeping back.

“I’m sorry,” The Vault Hunter belatedly adds, perhaps sensing how disappointed Teep is. It’s far too late for it to be an afterthought. 

Teep accepts it, albeit gingerly, with a nod. This appears to mollify the Vault Hunter. Whatever wariness they’d had earlier is dwarfed by uncertainty. They twist one end of the scarf in their hands, the browned fabric twisting amongst bandaged digits.

Don’t look at Teep. Teep has just as much idea as them as to what’ll happen next. Perhaps other people would have gotten angry and demanded a rematch. Teep is not other people.

“Would you like some tea?” The Vault Hunter offers. “My teleport tends to make people nauseous, and I did throw you up pretty high...” The trailing off is because Teep is giving them no visible signs of encouragement.

Willing to help them out for a lark, Teep coolly signs the equivalent of ‘sure’. Their last meal is a cup of tea. Wonderful. Heights had never been an issue to begin with, nor nausea. The Vault Hunter’s frame conveys a relief that the offer of tea is accepted. Teep ponders that it’s a sign that a silent truce is in place.

From their inventory, the Vault Hunter pulls out a beaten box of matches, the cardboard about to fall apart, fiddling with it. One lit match flies into the campfire. Despite it being daytime, the campfire is soon blazing. Mismatching metal mugs and an old kettle are brought out.

“I don’t know sign language,” confesses the Vault Hunter upon watching Teep sign ‘thanks’ in response to a mug that’s passed over (and Teep watches them like a hawk for any sign of added poison). 

The two of them settle on the ground on rocks. Neither of them drink the mugs they’re holding. Not in each other’s presence, at any rate.

Teep looks down at the vaguely smoking mug in their hand. They look at the Vault Hunter. The Vault Hunter mirrors them, heaving an exasperated sigh. Long fingers rise to rub at the bridge of their nose. “I didn’t actually think about that. Sorry.”

That doesn’t matter because Teep flings the mug aside to dive away. A missed punch ruffles the fur of Teep’s hood. Not fazed, Teep flips out of the roll. A pistol is aimed at a furious bandit dressed in a kilt. That would explain the footsteps behind Teep that they’d been tracking for the past minute or so.

Knuckles crack. The shirtless bandit spawns a crate of rations, lobbing it at Teep. Teep ducks, the crate harmlessly crashing into a dried stump. Pieces of rotten wood and plastic shards fly in every direction, showering the three of them. Rations litter the ground, a few spilling their contents.

The Vault Hunter’s dropped their mug to shield their face. Tea puddles at their feet. The mug rolls away towards the crest of the hill to join the escape party.

“Ravs, stop!” The Vault Hunter shouts at their furious companion. A brief look of pain crosses their face at the lost rations.

The bandit rounds on them, demanding, “Why are you having  _ tea _ with the person who tried to kill you?” Teep can barely understand their accent.

“You saw all that?” Rythian’s tone is mildly bewildered and somewhat cowed by the force behind those words.

“Rythian, you were fighting on top of a hill,” Ravs points out. “Who are they?” A nod indicates Teep.

“A challenger, it seems,” Rythian explains, now close enough to put himself between the two. “It actually wasn’t a fight to the death.” Somebody is  _ lying _ . Why?

“It looked like it,” Ravs hotly responds, albeit his expression softens. However, the irate edge to his voice remains, as with the hostility in his gaze. Now this is someone who means serious business, in comparison to Rythian.

Teep reacts by giving Ravs the middle finger, making sure that it can’t be misconstrued for anything less polite. Ravs immediately takes a menacing step towards them, forcing Rythian backwards.

Rythian makes another hasty attempt to be diplomatic. “They won’t hurt you if you won’t hurt them.” A pointed pause occurs where Ravs ignores Rythian to glare at Teep.

Teep crudely beckons to Ravs, the gesture doubling as ‘bring it’. Ravs is making it far too  _ easy _ with his temper.

“I don’t know.” Ravs tries to step around Rythian, only to be blocked. Rythian’s taller but Ravs is all too willing to use his brawn to his advantage. “I think a bit of pain would teach them a lesson.”

“Don’t encourage them.” To Teep, Rythian hints, “If you’d stop baiting Ravs, that’d be nice.”

Teep considers this, they really do. They’re reminded of Joh- Panda. At a glance, Ravs isn’t much to look at. From afar, Ravs poses no threat whatsoever; up close is the opposite. People being scared of him are likely to be frightened by their own shadow. What does Rythian have to be afraid of?

Perhaps Ravs can offer a better challenge. It’d come at the expense of upsetting Rythian which Teep suspects would piss off Ravs further. It's Rythian's lucky day. Plus, Teep owes Rythian one for lying through his teeth to Ravs about the duel. Twice, actually, including the tea.

“Fine,” Teep concedes. The signing confuses Ravs and Rythian, looks of bafflement replacing their current expressions.

“What did you say?” Ravs squints at Teep’s hands, a muscle in his broad jaw tensing.

“Fucker,” Teep deliberately signs. Ravs lunges, a hand outstretched to grab Teep and haul them closer for a pummelling. The world blurs- when Teep lifts their head, Ravs is gone.

“Rythian!” Ravs bellows from the bottom of the ridge. “You fucker!” A string of distant profanities follow.

“We have a few minutes before he comes back,” Rythian wearily says, lowering a hand. He and Teep glance over the edge at Ravs shaking his fist up at them.

Teep despawns the pistol, eyeing Rythian. The lack of understanding is beginning to pose a problem. Usually, people are decently versed in sign language. Teep accesses their HUD, pushing a file towards the two of them. Ravs is barely within range, still yelling threats up at Teep.

> accept the download

“Okay.” Rythian cautiously accepts, the file seamlessly installing itself. There’s sullen silence as Ravs presumably does the same.

Guessing that enough time has been allowed, Teep experimentally signs, “Testing.”

“Oh!” Rythian watches a caption scroll across his HUD. “Now we can talk.” He seems pleased by the tiny but noteworthy addition. “Why did you come here?” He adds, “To fight me, that is.” Good, he’s not asking Teep why they came to Pandora. So Rythian isn’t as stupid as they look.

“I wanted a challenge,” Teep explains.

Rythian’s caught on that they’re not going to delve into the reasons for wanting death at his hand. 

In return, they’re going to be lenient (though repeatedly baiting Ravs is proving a hidden delight, of the ‘poke something larger and angrier with a stick to see what happens’ kind, catering to Teep’s speciality).

“Well, I hope you got it.” Disdain at the search for violence seeps into Rythian’s tone. “You didn’t seem very happy at the end when winning.”

“I didn’t win,” Teep points out.

“Uh. No, I didn’t,” Rythian counters, giving them a look of disbelief. They don’t get that this is unusual for Teep, who preferred to claim credit for wins as to not tarnish their perfect track record of wins, losses and urgh, draws.

Teep signs in frustration, insisting, “You did.”

At this point, Ravs returns, panting from having sprinted up the hill twice now. He points at Teep, the look in his eyes promising retaliation of the violent kind. “You motherfucker,” He spits.

“Your mother seemed to like it,” Teep easily responds, causing Ravs to march over, knuckles crunching in his hands. Teep moves to retrieve their pistol and plant a bullet in Ravs’ head if he got any closer.

“Don’t make me teleport you two in opposite directions,” Rythian warns, intervening. “You want a bigger challenge? Be a Vault Hunter.” The misdirect works. Ravs puts on hold his desire to break both of Teep’s legs, frowning at Rythian.

“Rythian,” Ravs laughs, “surely you’re not thinking of inviting this prick along?”

“I am,” Rythian emphatically confirms. That shuts Ravs up. Not for long, though. Teep doesn't miss the familiar, haunted look in Rythian’s eyes at not wanting another death on their hands.

“Mate, you’re joking.” Judging by Ravs’ expression, he doesn’t seem to be as fond of the idea.

Neither is Teep. It might be a good time killer, being a Vault Hunter. If Ravs can remain pissed off for long enough, perhaps they can goad Ravs into killing them instead at some point. Ravs doesn’t look like he’s going to say ‘no’ when Teep challenges him. If Teep ever does.

Much to Ravs’ consternation, Teep signs, “Alright.” Ravs will have to accept the decision, given Rythian’s already launching into an explanation of what Vault Hunting is like he’s given the talk a few times already. Teep listens with half their attention.

At least they’re right: Pandora is shaping up to be an interesting place already, the people included.

\--

For the first four weeks, traveling with Rythian and Ravs is, for the lack of another word, complete and utter fuckery. This is largely because Ravs and Rythian are still getting used to each other. The addition of a third traveler upsets the delicate balance already in place.

Between Rythian and Ravs, Teep’s presence irks Ravs the most. It’s likely because of Teep’s initial attempt to harm Rythian. No matter how much Rythian insists that it hadn’t been a lethal duel, Ravs continues to keep Teep at an arm’s length, literally and metaphorically. 

Being treated like a threat isn’t an alien concept; for as long as Teep can remember, that’s to be expected, wherever they went.

Still, it’d been a refreshing change of pace, the way Saberial and Panda had simply welcomed them with open arms into their tiny group. Teep had stayed to only satisfy their curiosity. 

Nobody else had been that stupid as to invite someone like them into a place where they could the wreck the most havoc. It’d developed beyond that, once the attachment settled in and made itself at home, plus a cup of tea and put their feet up, as well as laying out the welcome mat.

Fuck, Teep actually  _ missed _ the two. No doubt that the group is wondering where ‘Green’ is. Too bad, ‘Green’ is effectively dead, a part of their life Teep already amputated. 

It didn’t mean it had to not hurt, evoking a twinge of phantom pain that flared, lessening in intensity every time Teep’s hand brushed against their ECHO device.

Teep also has to stop themself from reaching for their inventory where their laptop would be stored, only to disguise the move as inspecting their sniper rifle. The laptop’s back in their ship. Like with everything else in their life, they’re cut off from it, effectively alone.

Communicating with Ravs and Rythian is limited to who’s taking watch, food, setting up camp, ammo and the nature of jobs. Always, one of them is watching Teep for the slightest sign of directed violence.

Teep has no interest in hurting them, preferring to maintain the status quo as it is. Still, it somewhat offends Teep that the two think that Teep is still out to get them. Just in case, they don’t ever lapse into a state deeper than a light nap if Ravs decides to surprise them.

Ravs and Rythian cautiously extend the hand of friendship once they fully understand that concept.

So, Ravs drops the hostilities. With it comes a new side of him, tipping the see-saw in his favor.

“Need a hand with that?” Ravs leans over Teep’s shoulder to examine the assault rifle Teep’s breaking down to scavenge the scope. In the light of the campfire, Teep can spot Ravs’ enormous, playful grin. It promises more than a good time.

Half a metre away, Rythian gets up to tend to refuelling the technical. Teep suspects that Rythian is having a private laugh at their expense. 

Well, Rythian is going to find that when it’s his turn to sit in the back of the technical, there’ll be a bunch of boxes there to make the space even more cramped.

Comfortably seated on top of a crate, Teep pauses in the middle of levering the scope free. The rest of the gun clacks as they heft it off their lap. Cleaning fluid drips onto a rag set out to catch the mess.

Ravs is standing close enough that Teep can feel his body heat through the thin jacket. The man is like a living furnace. It explains the lack of a shirt and need for extra clothing in the Pandoran climate.

Teep’s other jacket had unfortunately, taken one for the team when dealing with, hooray, barf skags. It’s hanging out to dry over the top of the technical, as with Rythian’s coat.

“Shame, I wanted to see you slip into something more comfortable,” Ravs had commented once Teep had switched jackets (out of the two’s sight, obviously).

Teep had to pause and check that they’d heard right by replaying the second in their head. Did Ravs just  _ flirt  _ with them? Rythian had coughed and strode off very quickly under the pretense of ‘hunting skags’. Watching him go, Ravs had grinned. He’d winked and sauntered off when Teep had stared.

Right, Teep will happily take back the oddness of three people trying to get used to traveling together rather than this hell. They don’t respond to the flirting, falling into the habit of adopting a blank air. It’d shut down most attempts in the past.

Ravs proves to be a persistent fucker, though.

The act Ravs is suggesting isn’t new to Teep (one of the few things in life that’d never lived up to its hype, when they’d tried it). Truth be told, Teep doesn’t mind the flirting; they’ve been exposed to people enough that people are bound to be naturally curious about what’s underneath the mask.

However, the way Ravs is going about it makes Teep’s trigger finger  _ itch  _ like never before.

“Don’t mind Ravs,” Rythian calls out from besides the technical. “That's how you know you’re friends with him.” He’s failing to hide how he’s pleased they’re no longer trying to kill each other. 

Friends, already? These two must have incredibly low standards. And so had Saberial and Panda.

“No,” Teep pointedly signs, deliberately exaggerating the word with their hand.

“You sure? You look like you're having a little trouble with that.” Ravs casually reaches around to wrap his fingers around the scope, leaning dangerously close to Teep.

Teep’s hand closes around Ravs’ thumb, their own digging into a particularly sensitive area that doubles as a pressure point. The message is clear: take your fucking hand off my gun or risk a broken thumb.

“You have very warm hands for someone who wears gloves,” Ravs compliments. Teep doesn’t get how he’s not fazed by the pending pain. It’s almost like Ravs is enjoying their resistance. One of his fingers gently brushes against Teep’s own as he murmurs, “Are your hands sensitive under there?” The fingers drift closer to their wrist, implying that they’d pull the glove off if they traveled any higher.

That’s close enough. Teep pushes Ravs’ hand away, not hard enough for Ravs to think that he’s overstepped. Not gently enough either, so that Ravs doesn’t think they’re about to accept whatever he’s offering.

If he’s seriously offering. Ravs seems to be one of those people who flirted just to see what’d happen. Teep isn’t sure if they like it.

The idea of accepting whatever he’s offering repulses Teep. Anybody who’s attracted to him needs to revise their taste. Badly, and with a series of hard knocks to the head. Teep levels a pointed look at Rythian as they climb into the driver’s seat of the technical. It’s their turn to drive.

Rythian carefully avoids Teep’s knowing gaze, becoming extremely interested in the road ahead of them. Ravs puts out the campfire to hop into the back, sprawling out against the crates there. 

In the gloom, Teep thinks that if this is Ravs’ form of belated payback, it’s certainly working. They are going to punch Ravs the next time he flirts with them.

\--

Zylus urges the technical onwards, off the highway and onto a side road.

The last junkyard extraction hadn’t been as clean as he’d hoped, with Rats swarming like spiderants towards him over the stacks of abandoned machinery left to rot into dust and oblivion. Fodder bandits served to fill in the rest of the ranks.

They hadn’t been able to take him alive when faced with five entire rounds of spread rockets decimating the exit on his way out. Whether or not the incident will filter back to Bandit Lord overseeing the area occupies Zylus’ mind, more so than the casualties he’d caused.

> I think you will be safe.

BebopVox’s reassuring message pops up, making Zylus anxiously squeeze the steering wheel. The road continues with no end in sight, empty plains forming the scenery on either side of him.

“I hope so,” Zylus responds. He’s not safe until he reach a town where he can take refuge and lie low for a couple of days. 

Bandits looking for him tended to avoid towns, for some reason. He’s no expert on how bandit minds worked. Nobody, even on this planet, is that depraved as to begin trying.

It hadn’t been easy to shoot with a missing eye. The first rocket had sailed over heads, eliciting a series of guttural and raspy laughs. That is, until a tower of spiked metal suited for the front of a technical collapsed onto a group, causing a domino effect on the rest of the junkyard.

> That was interesting to watch.

BebopVox’s idle commentary on the encounter filled in the rest of Zylus’ messages. Occasional reminders to rest, eat and drink broke up the rest. He’s not sure if BebopVox’s commentary is for his own benefit or theirs.

If it’s not for BebopVox looking out for him, Zylus is dead certain that he’d have perished from starvation or dehydration. Speaking of which, Zylus’ rations need a refill. The amount of money he’d looted isn’t enough to cover this week’s rations.

When one is escaping a bunch of bloodthirsty bandits pissed that their home is being destroyed, one would do to get the fuck out of there fast.

As he switches lane, the speedometer’s arrow begins to tick down. Zylus presses down on the accelerator for a burst of speed. He’s going as fast as he dares without the technical spinning out. On these roads, that’s always a risk with how infrequently maintained they are.

The arrow continues to descend. Reflecting that, the technical begins to coast on the speed it's built. Zylus curses.

“No, no, no, no, not here!” He hops out of the technical, banging his hand on the wheel from the skewed depth perception. The technical can’t die, not on the open road like this and leaving him stranded.

The problem is traced to the fuel tank on the underside. A gaping hole’s been drilled into it, accompanied by claw marks indicating that some Rat’s devious plan is successful.

He estimates that he has roughly an hour to get away from the technical; the technical isn’t even his. He’d stolen it, as with every other ride he’d been using to date. All bandit owned and made, of course.

BebopVox is silent, perhaps sensing that silent is for the best as Zylus works out what to do. It’s ‘walk’ or ‘stay and get into a fight that he doesn’t have the ammo for’. Risking it for another ride isn’t worth it.

Zylus grabs the hunks of scrap metal he’d tossed into the back, tucking them into his cramped inventory. 

Scrap metal is always appreciated in towns. It’s how he’s been scraping by these weeks, by breaking into junkyards to make off with valuable pieces. Occasionally he loots items of value, such as water filters, solar panels or weaponry. Those are always pawned off for a decent price.

Under the sun, Zylus begins the impossibly long walk to the next town. Thoughts gnaw at him, especially the ones leading up to the recent removal of his right eye. 

Said organ is tightly sealed in a jam jar preserved in a potent mix he doesn’t want to know about. Zylus hadn’t trusted the ‘doctor’ performing the operation to properly dispose of his eye. Keeping is probably not a sane course of action, but so had been choosing to obey orders, back on the frigate.

The scars are healing well, a surprising feat seeing as Zylus has next to no means of preventing infection (barring emergency first-aid, laughable seeing as he has no supplies for that whatsoever).

Walk. Walk some more. Keep walking. Follow the road for what feels like forever.

Hot air drags his limbs down, weighing them down with heat starting to cook him from inside-out. Every breath is a concentrated effort, coarsely scraping the inside of his nose and throat on the way in and out. When he swallows, his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

Whatever water he has left is soon reduced to droplets that he coaxes out of the canteen and from the lid’s underside. Zylus doesn’t dare eat his last two rations; that’d require more water than he currently has to wash them both down.

The striding becomes a trudge. When it did, Zylus has no clue. The past two hours are filled with the memory of step after step after step, sand kindly filling in his footprints for him as to wipe all trace of his presence. If he doesn’t get out of the desert soon, it’ll be him next.

And Zylus finds that he  _ wants  _ it to. His whole life amounts to nothing. He’s been reduced to  _ nothing _ at Daltos’ hand and vice versa. In one move, he’d brought their lives crashing down around them.

He laughs, only because it’s ironic that the actions that they both thought would save them had fucked them over instead. The best part is that he hadn’t seen it coming (oh yes, he had; he’d just been deluding himself that he hadn’t).

> Zylus?

BebopVox sounds rather concerned. They have every right to be. Otherwise, they’d be neglecting their duty of ‘nag Zylus to eat and drink, especially when he forgets to do so because he’s too busy fucking hating himself to the moon and back’.

He doesn’t bother dignifying BebopVox with a response for five minutes, too busy grappling with the prospect of dying, right here, right  _ now. _

_ > _ You have stopped moving.

A true observation. He has stopped moving, his gaze set on the sand beneath his feet. Moving implies purpose. He has  _ none _ to speak of.

> Please move.

Facing no resistance, the hollow feeling in his chest (behind his sternum, to the right of his calm heart) constricts.

> Zylus.

> Please.

> Don’t do this.

A plea falling on deaf ears. Sand parts around his boots, pushed out of the way by an invisible hand. Good. By the time his pursuers caught up, they won’t find a body to desecrate or plunder.

> Zylus.

> Move.

> Just one step.

It’s over.

> Please.

He’s sorry. Living hurts too much. He’s so  _ tired _ , and he is  _ done _ . It’s a bloody miracle how he’d held out for this long. Text floods his screen, consisting of Bebop’s desperate pleas for him to get up and etc., etc., he’s closed his eyes.

Falling takes a second. Landing lasts forever. His shield protects him, layering him in blue. It’s a guess as to how long it’ll last before he’s buried alive. 

Sand patiently begins to seeping along the folds of his clothing, between his curled fingers, into the curved hollow his cheek’s left on the ground, everywhere.

He closes his eyes, welcoming his chosen fate. Yes, this is how it must be. It’s what BebopVox wanted too, right? Right…?

A technical approaches; they’ve found him but it’s too late, he’s moved on (with a bitter smile on his face).

\--

Fingertips graze his face. A calloused thumb languidly runs over his cheekbone with far too much gentleness. A warm palm folds along his face.

(Forget about it. He's not coming back. Neither is he. But he  _ can't _ forget.)

Awareness slips into his mind, a trickle that becomes a flood of delayed sensory information. Overwhelmed, Zylus curls up, scrunching his eyes up tighter, futilely attempting to block out as much of it as he can. An age passes, filled with mind numbing static of tangled sensations.

Eventually, his brain forcibly separates the tangles.

His mouth is no longer dry, tasting of water (possessing a faint tang; hard to get used to at first, on this planet). No sore throat or cracked lips. The horrible pressure in his head’s gone.

Someone had taken the time to wipe his face; that explains the phantom touches (or not). When he touches his forehead, a residual dampness coats his fingers in moisture. It’s water, not sweat.

> You are alive.

Yes, Zylus. Alive. A simple statement, one that he's disappointed by and ashamed to think. A blanket hides him from view. Zylus risks tugging it off to see where he ended up. He’d been left to curl up in the back of a technical. It is dark out, cool but not quite cold. Blue colors everything where orange doesn’t dare tread.

Beyond the vehicle are three figures crowding around a lit campfire. Two of the three are chatting, voices inaudible. The third is cleaning a sniper rifle, watching the sight mutely.

> You are safe for now.

The report from BebopVox is met with tentative relief. There's no mention of what had happened. So, where is he, if he's not captured? A canteen is conveniently leaning against a sealed ammo box. Zylus risks sipping from it, satiating his thirst that’s returned.

> Some helpful strangers picked us up.

> They gave you water.

> We are in the Salt Flats.

“He's awake!” declares a figure who’d spotted him sitting up. 

Startled, Zylus drops the canteen. It slips out of his grip, plunging towards the ground. It vanishes (later, he recalls that he’d never heard it hit the ground). Zylus is more focused on watching the three figures surround him.

“How are you feeling?” The one wearing a kilt brightly inquires. They pluck a canteen (the same one he’d dropped) from an offered hand, passing it back to Zylus.

Zylus doesn’t take it. He’s too busy staring at the two figures, not liking how he’s being penned in. Without the harsh light of the campfire to obscure their features, two of the three figures look like  _ bandits.  _ As the saying goes, it’s out of the frying pan and into the fire.

The last figure looks like a freelancer. Zylus ignores them for now. They’re hanging back far enough to observe while remaining in the know.

“Don’t strain yourself trying to talk,” says the scarfed figure to fill in the awkward silence.

Zylus gets up, sliding towards the technical to swing his legs over the edge. The kilted figure leans over to help him up- Zylus snaps, “Don’t  _ touch _ me.”

The outstretched hand withdraws at the harshness of his tone. Both figures exchange neutral glances. Zylus finds his feet and stands, his centre of gravity wobbling. Having walked for far too long, all his leg muscles cramp, dragging him down from the crippling pain. He can expect blisters later, on the soles of his feet.

He manages to stumble away from the pair of hands trying to steady him, backing up against the technical for support.

He doesn’t care if he seems mad or touched by heatstroke (or whatever it is that made people rave at the sun), he doesn’t want to be here or helped by  _ bandits.  _

The kilted figure works out his fear, homing in on it. “We’re not bandits,” They gently say. A bruise adorns one bare, muscled shoulder. Zylus focuses on their face.

“Fuck off,” Zylus immediately responds, trying to glare and failing from how his voice hitches with the pain in his legs.

“You need to lie down before you pass out-” The scarfed one tries to placate.

An excellent point, and one that Zylus ignores even as he’s growing lightheaded. Clearly he’d woken up in his stupor so that they could give him water before passing out again. He doesn't remember. BebopVox does, and it’s not within BebopVox’s capabilities to lie (effectively that is).

They don’t know about BebopVox, and that’s how it should be. 

How far can he run before they grab him? He doesn’t know where he is, now stranded because of these good-for-nothing meddlers. Being in debt to these bandits (plus one freelancer), especially for one he can’t exactly pay back that easily, rankles.

He doubts he can get very far. That won’t stop him trying. Zylus turns to walk into the desert, even if it’s to his doom. “Thanks for your help, but I think I can manage,” He mumbles over one shoulder.

> Zylus, you can trust these people.

No, he can’t. It’s a trap.

“Please sit down,” repeats the scarfed one who seems to be trying to remain patient but failing. They seem on the verge of letting him walk off.

Someone taps him on the shoulder, a featherlight touch. One of his hands rises to slap away the offender. It’s the freelancer. Zylus’ curled hand freezes an inch away from theirs. Something about touching them directly spells consequences with a capital ‘C’.

“Oh, so you’re a  _ bandit _ too,” Zylus witheringly notes, his hand falling away. The freelancer shakes their head. Zylus can see his reflection in their goggles and what he sees strikes a terrifying chord in him. “No? Fucking prove it,” Zylus challenges, expecting nothing. 

He’s proven wrong. 

The freelancers dips a gloved hand into the inside of their jacket, withdrawing a silvery chain.

On the end of it hangs two reflective dog tags. The metal’s been inflicted with such brutal scarring that no trace of letters exist. How the tags hadn’t snapped yet indicates Dahl’s trademark endurance. No rank, no name, no company or unit, serial number, no blood type, no homeworld. Only one word stands out below the hole in the metal bits: DAHL.

Recognition crashes through Zylus, rooting him to the spot. Never had he expected to find someone else on this planet from the same army. The way the metal shines indicates that it’s the real deal.

His own dog tags are nestled in his inventory, buried under his spare combat uniform. It’s pointless to dig them out to compare them.

Out of habit, Zylus’ eyes travel up to the spot above the left eyebrow. Or where it’d be. The freelancer's covered face prevents him from knowing their former rank (if it still remains, that is; removing rank took a ridiculous amount of effort, likely what Dahl intended).

A questioning tilt of the head asks if that’s enough proof. Zylus nods. The tags are tucked away. He has a feeling that he’ll never see those tags again.

“Why did you help me?” Zylus asks in a low voice. Dahl soldiers (even former ones) aren’t renowned for their kindness. He has never seen this soldier before in his entire life, so he doubts they’re allied with the ones he’s avoiding.

> Because I know what it feels like.

“Ah.” Zylus closes his eyes, opening them once he’s turned to the other two figures who are staring at them. It seems like it’s the first time that the other two have glimpse those tags too. “So what are you, if you’re not bandits?” He manages to not sound disdainful when the last word leaves him.

“Vault Hunters,” The scarfed figure calmly informs him, shaking off their shock.

“You don’t look like Vault Hunters,” Zylus observes. The freelancer’s confirmed who they are; the other two have not.

“We are!” insists the kilted one. “And don’t go asking us for proof because we don’t have any.”

“Alright. So you’re still bandits.” Ignoring the two’s immediate protests to the contrary, Zylus turns back to the freelancer. “Why are you following these two around?” Freelancers tended to ally themselves with the highest bidder. These Vault Hunters didn’t seem that wealthy.

> Beats me.

“ _ What _ .” Zylus flatly says, eyeing the freelancer. He’d assumed they’d been hired.

> Shits and giggles, then.

“Surely there’s a better reason than that?”

> Nope.

“I don’t know what you’re telling them Teep, but tell them we’re really not bandits,” says the scarfed figure.

Teep’s hands blur too much for Zylus to pick up on what they’re saying. His grasp of sign language isn’t that strong in the first place, aside from basics.

Whatever they say makes the kilted figure laugh. They look right at Zylus, smiling. “Well, if you don’t trust us, you can trust Teep. They don’t mince words.”

Silence is valid. Zylus refrains from asking what they’d said about him, marching over to climb back into the technical before he passes out again. First time had been his own fault. The second time is just embarrassing.

The kilted figure hands him a bowl. When Zylus makes no move to take it, they leave it on a crate. Noticing his reluctance to eat, Teep points to it.

> It’s good grub.

> If you pass out again, we’ll just ditch you on the side of the road.

Zylus gingerly hefts the bowl towards him, no longer able to ignore the hunger pains. And definitely not because he’s afraid of being abandoned.

Whatever it is in the bowl, it’s some sort of soup. Probably tinned. Chunks of roughly chopped vegetables bob in the reddish-brown liquid. It has the consistency of custard. Is it stew? It looks like someone with a vague idea of what stew looks like had simply thrown ingredients into a pot of boiling water and added paint to it. Whatever, the smell it’s giving off is nothing like paint fumes.

A spoonful becomes two, three, then four. Before Zylus knows it, he’s eaten the whole bowl, scraping along the sides with the spoon. During all that, Teep’s climbed into the back of the technical to perch on the crate, long legs crossing over Zylus’ own.

He’s glad for the company, even if Teep proves quiet, likely keeping watch by the way their head rotates to take in the whole of the campsite. He appreciates how they let him eat in silence. Only when he’s put down the bowl and spoon do they sign.

It turns out that Rythian and Ravs are the names of their two companions. Said two are roughhousing, Rythian blinking in and out of sight as Ravs tries to wrestle him to the ground. Laughter adds a layer of background noise to the night. It’s soothing, in a way. Zylus had forgotten what human company feels like.

It’s easy to feel isolated when one is surrounded by miles of desert with no end in sight. Funny how having even one person around changed all that. Three people is not a crowd, on Pandora. 

The campfire crackles, spitting as whatever else is cooking turns on the rigged spit. Stars overhead take their places. The sky is painted a dark blue, a somber navy that makes Zylus feel like he’s looking into the bottom of a lake. He could fall up any second if he continues to stare at the constellations.

The stars hadn’t looked like this on the frigate. Out here on the desolate plains, he feels that they’re beyond his reach, mocking him given that he’d once stood amongst them. He’d never felt that way about them before. It’s a sobering realisation that makes him wonder what else has changed without his notice.

Zylus suppresses a shiver, watching the dancing flames of the campfire to make his eyes tire. Ah, but his empty one is gazing into space. It’s pointless to remember how it’d felt having two eyes.

Rendered sleepy by his full stomach and the day’s ordeal, Zylus curls up. The back of the technical isn’t that comfortable but he’s slept in rougher places.

“Thank you,” He mumbles to nobody in particular, cushioning his head with his hands (far too dry, the skin cracking here and there). Five minutes later, he’s fast asleep. One hand’s stretched out like he’s reaching for someone.

Teep waits until his breathing has evened out before reaching down to pick up the blanket, throwing it over Zylus. His hand closes on the edge. It’s oddly endearing. Teep spends a moment staring curiously at the empty eyelid that’s now closed.

When it came to other people, seeing the look of one who’d given up on life disturbs Teep. If the others never saw it on Teep (so long as they kept their face hidden), it didn’t matter. They don’t need to know that Teep suffered in silence.

\--

It takes two months for Zylus to warm up to Rythian and three to do the same for Ravs, with some helpful prodding from Teep along the way. 

Teep, Rythian and Ravs don’t take it personally whenever Zylus withdraws to battle whatever demons have taken up residence in his head. The demons come out to play in the form of snapping at everyone but Teep. 

Zylus is always apologising between the unpredictable mood swings. Of the four, he insists on taking the second most watches, like he has something to make up for. Ravs and Rythian have given up trying to stop him.

Teep has the honor of taking the most watches. One night, the three of them get together while Teep is off hunting.

“Does Teep ever sleep?” Zylus brings up, turning over a kebab on the fire. It sizzles, flinging droplets of oil into the air as it cooks. Zylus shifts away to avoid any landing on him.

While it’s comforting to wake up in the middle of the night and spot Teep camping out on roof of the technical with their sniper rifle at the ready, it’s beginning to bug Zylus. They’ve all agreed to evenly share watches when it’s possible; Teep still ends up with the majority of them, for some reason.

Frowning, Rythian consults his memory. Ravs does the same, as with Zylus. The three draw blanks.

“You know, I’ve never seen Teep so much as sleep like the rest of us,” Ravs slowly says, adding another stick to the fire.

Zylus proposes, “Let’s see who’s been doing watches for the past two weeks.” 

From his inventory, Rythian tosses down a wrinkled Pandoran calendar. For every single day, he’d scrawled the names of who’d taken watches. Sure enough, Teep’s name outnumbers the three’s. The three share concerned glances.

“Who wants to bring it up to them?” Rythian eventually asks. He and Zylus automatically turn to Ravs with identical imploring looks on their faces (or in Rythian’s case, it shows in his eyes).

Pretending not to notice, Ravs stokes the fire with a bit of branch he’d broken off a dead tree. “You sure you want to trust me with the task?” In spite of his neutral tone, he’s quite pleased they decided to give the task to him. Or rather, his ego’s pleased.

“Well, Teep seems to have the most  _ chemistry _ with you,” Rythian says, coughing awkwardly. Ravs raises an eyebrow at him. Rythian turns away to fiddle with the calendar, folding it up again.

“It’s true,” Zylus mumbles, awfully interested in the odd bit of timber sticking out of the fire. Ravs leans across to nudge it back into place, deliberately leaning close to Zylus. Pink fills Zylus’ cheeks.

“Are you jealous that I’m flirting with Teep more than you two?” Ravs cheerfully asks.

“No! I’m really not. Jealous. Nope,” Rythian answers.

“No!” This comes from Zylus, who hastily adds, “Really, not jealous.” 

Ravs is about to poke fun at them when Teep emerges into the clearing. They dump two skag corpses by the fire, sitting next to Ravs. 

Seizing the moment, Ravs turns to them. “I’m taking the watch today, if that’s alright by you.”

Behind them, Rythian and Zylus share slightly alarmed looks at the direct approach Ravs is employing. The two of them back away to a safe distance, just in case.

“No, it’s my turn,” Teep responds without looking at Ravs. They make no move to take any food from the fire, preferring to live off rations rather than cooked food.

“Well, the calendar says that you took watch for the past four nights,” Ravs conversationally continues. “You should sleep.”

“I feel fine.”

“No you don’t.” Ravs leans in close enough to headbutt Teep if he felt like it. Teep stares back. He has to look up to meet Teep’s tinted gaze to compensate for the height difference, even when sitting. “Your sharpshooting’s been a little off. Don’t think I haven't noticed.” That’s a white lie; Teep rarely misses their shots and if they did, it’s on purpose. Probably.

“Anything else seem a little off? Like your head?”

“You’ve been a tad slower.” Just to convey what he means, Ravs aims a punch at Teep’s chest.

Teep’s hand catches it; to an onlooker, it’d been instantaneous. To Ravs, there’s a slight lag between Teep registering it and reacting. They release Ravs’ hand, folding their arms over their chest. “It’s not affecting anything else, so why are you bringing it up now?” 

“Teep, I’m serious. We’re a little worried at this point. Nobody’s ever seen you lie down.” For long, at any rate.

“You have, you just don’t remember it very well.”

“When was the last time you rested? Properly?”

“Three days ago,” reluctantly concedes Teep, knowing that Ravs will catch them if they tried to lie.

“Three days ago.” Ravs can’t help but turn that answer over in his mind. Good grief,  _ three days.  _ How Teep is still conscious, let alone shooting and driving without nodding off is incredible.

“Do you have a problem with sleeping?” Ravs is going to get to the bottom of this, even if Teep is going to be stubborn about it. “Please, let me help you.”

“If you’re planning on reading a bedtime story to me, you can go and fuck yourself.” Okay, now Teep’s irritated. Ravs can tell because Teep’s frame radiates it. Plus, they’re being a lot more acerbic than usual.

“You can rest now,” Ravs coaxes. “We won’t mind if you skip out on a couple of watches. It’s always a long night ahead of us.”

“No.” Teep shakes their head.

“It’s not a fucking competition to see who can get the most watches.”

“I know it isn’t.”

“What is it that you don’t like about sleeping?” Ravs sighs. This is not going well, not at all.

“I just don’t like sleeping. That’s literally it.” 

Bullshit. “I don’t think so,” Ravs slowly observes. “It’s not that you don’t like sleeping, it’s that you can’t sleep.”

Teep is silent for all of the four minutes that pass, until they uncross their arms to sign, “Chronic insomnia.”

“Oh, Teep. You could have told us.” Ravs knows a couple of bandits who’d suffered from insomnia. Needless to say, none of them had ever put up with it as well as Teep currently is doing.

“You can’t make me sleep. I’ve tried. Nothing works. I’ll pass out when I feel like it.” A pragmatism exists in those words, a sure sign of someone who’s long since accepted a problem that won’t go away. It makes Ravs’ heart ache that it’s expected that he will sit by and do jack shit.

“Can we help?” Ravs refuses to let Teep’s resignation dictate his actions.

Teep’s glance at him seems surprised. “Distracting me might work, I suppose.” Uncertainty is evident in the way Teep signs. They’re at the end of their rope to finally accept help, a stark change to how they’d acted when they first began traveling with Ravs and Rythian. 

Ravs grins at them, suggestively raising both eyebrows. “I know a couple of pretty effective ways to help you relax…”

Teep’s hand slashes through the air. “If it involves any fucking, I’m out.”

“Oh no, no, we’re too exposed out here.” Ravs chuckles, sidling closer. Teep is still looking at him.

> :|

“Besides, what I have in mind is much more  _ personal _ . And it won’t work if you’re too tense.”

“I’m probably going to regret this, but.” Teep throws their hands up into the air, rubbing at their forehead. “I’ve been awake for four days now and I'm about to clock out on the present, and I don’t want that happening. So what.” Teep hesitates. “Are you going to do?”

“You just need to lie down and relax.” Ravs reaches up to put a hand on Teep’s shoulder, fingers folding around the fabric there. “I got you.” Resistance meets Ravs’ palm when he tries to ease Teep backwards, off the rock. “Just lie down.”

Teep glances at the hand on them, then back up at Ravs’ face.

> You know what?

> I change my mind.

Fifteen minutes later, Rythian and Zylus return from skinning the skags to find Ravs has wrestled Teep to the ground, his weight pinning them into place. Teep’s struggling. However, Ravs has an iron grip on the back of their jacket and arms.

“Gotcha, you bastard,” Ravs pants. He lifts his head, grinning as he notices the two. “I got Teep to lie down for a minute but they tried to sneak off a second later.”

> He’s lying. 

> I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Liar,” Ravs says. “So I'm just going to hold you down until you fall asleep.”

“Are you sure that’ll work?” Rythian points out, shoving the carcass of the skinned skag onto the fire. The smell fills the air with the scent of cooking meat.

“I’m not in any danger of getting tired anytime soon. Oh here, take Teep’s knife before they stab me.” Ravs nods at the knife on Teep’s belt. 

> Rythian, you touch that knife and I’ll break your fingers.

“If you take the knife, I’ll pay you back later.” Ravs winks.

> Say goodbye to your fingers.

“Sorry Teep, but this is for the best,” Rythian gravely informs them, retrieving the knife. It’s tucked into his inventory. “I’ll give it back to you later.”

> :(

Zylus has wisely gone off to check on the technical and store the remaining carcass to avoid being forced to pick between Teep and Ravs.

Five minutes later (filled with valiant struggling plus two close attempts at escaping), Teep’s form slumps under Ravs. Ravs blinks, loosening his grip on them. Rythian crouches to check, waving a hand in front of the goggles.

“It worked.” He sounds surprised. He leans down to shake Teep’s shoulder. “Teep?” Teep doesn’t respond.

“Now we just need to do that every night,” Ravs says, sounding pleased. He rises to his feet, making the mistake of letting go.

Teep kicks out Ravs’ legs out from under him, rolling onto their feet. Ravs shouts as he goes down onto his back, making a futile grab for Teep’s ankle. Teep hops out of his reach, sprinting towards Zylus.

“Get them!” Ravs bellows (and he chokes back a laugh because what is  _ happening _ ). 

His momentary trance broken by the order, Rythian hastily snaps off a teleport to bring Teep back. Having predicted it, Teep dives behind Zylus for refuge, resulting in Zylus screaming once he’s ended up on top of Ravs, wrapped in a pair of arms.

“Not now, Zylus.” Ravs allows a mortified Zylus to scramble off him before getting up to sprint after Teep.

“See, I told you they had chemistry,” Rythian mutters under his breath. Blushing madly, Zylus smacks him in the arm for the misplaced teleport.

Half a minute of mad dashing takes Ravs all the way into the badlands. Here, the terrain rises off the ground, forming treacherous slopes shaded by darkness and lurking pits. Ravs skirts around the edges to avoid being slowed down by the paralysis of the distance between the perilous ledges and hitting the bottom.

How Teep nimbly navigated around all these (with only the light of the moon to guide their feet) is lost on Ravs. Lacking the same agility, Ravs proceeds at his own pace. The slope ends with a cliff up ahead.

Teep can’t have slipped past him. No boulders offers ample cover to hide behind. A familiar figure with a jacket plus fur-lined hood stands alone, waiting.

Ravs hurries forward, kicking pebbles that scatter like grumpy hens disturbed during mealtime. Teep’s staring at the sheer expanse of cliff beneath them, the tips of their boots jutting out over the edge.

A single push would doom Teep; well, no, it’d only piss them off once they climbed back up.

“Teep?” Ravs approaches them as he would a skittish animal, his hands held slightly apart and posture as relaxed as possible.

Perhaps grabbing Teep had been too much for them to handle; Teep avoided all and any bodily contact. There’d been a subtle tensing once he’d touched them. He should have picked up on it sooner, mentally cursing at his own stupidity.

Teep’s gaze is fixated on the drop (and all it is is one step, which is all it’ll take if they don’t fight).

“We won’t force you to sleep if you don’t want to,” says Ravs. An apology is laced in that sentence, in his tone and in his expression.

He’s not particularly pretty to look at, Teep thinks, watching Ravs out of the corner of their eye. It’s the personality that attracted people. The looks are just a bonus. 

Ravs had no reason to come out all the way here, being deeply familiar with the way Teep randomly wandered off, only to return later. So, logically, Teep would have returned by morning. He could have saved himself the effort.

Here, Ravs followed because he was  _ worried  _ about upsetting them. 

That had marked the first time Ravs had physically touched them. While the layers of clothing prevented that kind of close contact between skin, Ravs must have assumed that Teep abhorred any type of contact, including that of the abrupt, manhandling kind.

Admittedly, they’d thought that Ravs would have snapped their neck or at least broken a bone. Ravs had upended their expectations, proving that he hadn’t held anything against them from their first meeting.

Minus the initial, fleeting moment of panic as to whether they could get away, the constant pressure on their arms and back hadn’t been exactly...unwelcome, once he’d caught up with them.

The pressure had mimicked the thick, heavy blankets Teep preferred sleeping underneath. The blankets are all back on the ship (and besides, Zylus claimed the only thin one between the four of them). 

Plus, Ravs had been doing a fantastic job, up until Rythian and Zylus had returned. It’d been best not to let the three think that they could simply fix the insomnia like that. Letting ideas into their heads (Ravs’ one, especially) is risky.

Fuck these well-meaning assholes and their need to meddle.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Teep laughs. Like everything else about them, the sound of their laughter is absent like the chime of a clock on the hour, in that silence rang instead. But, an absence of something did not mean it didn’t happen.

Ravs witnesses Teep’s shoulders shaking, head dipping as hands came up to where their mouth is, covering it. It takes a drawn out, confusing moment for Ravs to recognise that Teep is laughing.

What happened to them, in that they felt the need to smother the sound of their own voice, even their own laughter?

He doesn’t know, but what he does know is that Teep isn’t upset. “You’re not mad?” Ravs risks guessing anyway.

Teep steps back from the cliff, appearing to chuckle one last time before bluntly signing, “No.”

“What’s so funny then?” He huffs, levelling a look that tries to be serious. It fails, largely because of the smile he’s sporting.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Teep responds, ducking underneath Ravs’ swipe. “You can take my watch, I’m going to nap.” They carefully add at the look on Ravs’ face, “Without your help, thanks.”

\--

“A little to the left,” Rythian advises.

“Bah, I hate this, I can never hit the can.” Zylus sighs, tossing the rifle into his inventory.

Out of boredom, he and Zylus have been shooting at empty ration cans for the past two days, attempting to beat Teep’s record of a perfect twelve (depending on how many cans they salvage from the meals). 

Ravs is off on a supply run, accompanied by Teep. With any luck, the two won’t return being chased by enemies they’d picked fights with.

To pass the time, the four have been trading all manner of skills and knowledge with one another. 

Ravs offers how to make bootleg booze plus how to throw a simple punch without breaking any of one’s own bones in the process. In return, Rythian, Zylus and Teep are systematically tackling Ravs’ illiteracy between jobs. He’d been surprised that the three of them hadn’t made fun of him once he’d admitted that out loud; running around as a bandit didn’t offer much in the way of education.

Rythian doesn’t offer much aside from talks on critical analysis of literature; he seems much more keen on learning how to wrestle (from Ravs), parkour and sharpshoot (from Teep).

Zylus’ knowledge extends into the explosive category, owing to his preferred weapons: rocket launchers. This makes Zylus invaluable for dealing with large groups. It also made jobs requiring stealth nigh impossible. 

On the plus side, he, Teep and Ravs bonded over how to make grenades out of spare parts and junk, much to Rythian’s dismay over possibly tanking future missions with just one rocket.

Trying to include everyone, Zylus also tried to pass on how to rig up a starship engine, excitedly scrawling diagrams and explanations on paper stolen (with permission) from Rythian’s sketchbook. 

Ravs gave up five minutes in, his illiteracy preventing him from understanding anything more complicated than a recipe. Rythian followed suit a frustrated half an hour later, from his inability to recognise one out of every five words that Zylus says. That left Teep. Shockingly, Teep proved to be a surprisingly apt student already armed with the basics.

Many a session involved chatting (as fast as Teep can message and sign, that is) about the makes and models of starships, arguing and bickering about them.

“There was an incident years back about an experimental passenger ship exploding. Do you know anything about that?” Horribly outdated news, but one that’d rippled through the six galaxies. Never before had Maliwan experienced such a horrible malfunction in their machines.

Zylus would have loved to examine the blueprints to nitpick it, to find out what had gone wrong. He sips from his mug of tea, waiting for Teep to answer.

In the distance, Ravs wrestles Rythian into submission (and so far, Rythian’s losing streak is still happening). The wrestling lessons need tweaking, if Rythian doesn’t want to end up being constantly pinned by Ravs. Weirdly enough, Rythian never complained about it, persisting with the lessons.

Teep’s hands fold over one another. “Depends. Which cruiser are we talking about?”

“The Maliwan one,” Zylus clarifies.

“I was there, actually,” Teep admits.

“What were you doing there, and how did you escape?” Zylus would dearly love to ask about the engine and if Teep ever caught a glimpse of it. It’d probably be a bit too much to ask Teep to sketch what they could remember of it.

“Killing someone. Fortunately, I left early before it exploded.”

“Wait, I thought you were a freelancer.” Zylus’ brow furrows.

“I am. I’m the kind that kills people if paid enough.” The ease at which the admission happens makes Zylus think that Teep’s no stranger to admitting it.

“You’re a killer.”

“A killer for hire,” corrects Teep. “You’d be surprised at how much an ex-employee pays for me to kill their CEO.”

“Did. Did you kill all those people on the cruiser?” Zylus doesn’t wait for Teep to respond before adding quietly, “That was three thousand people who died that day.”

“No,” is the firm response he gets. “I never kill bystanders, even if they do get in the way.” As far as Teep’s knowledge goes, they’ve never exactly directly killed bystanders. Indirectly, yes. It couldn’t be helped, like how rain fell from the sky.

“But you know how to rig engines to explode!” Ravs and Rythian glance over at Zylus standing to shout at Teep. He flushes, sitting back down and staring in horror at Teep.

Teep appears to huff. “Stop jumping to conclusions. I only know about that because I studied it during a bad bout of insomnia,” is the annoyed message Teep sends, their fingers twitching. “You’re not the first person to ask me about that, by the way.” 

Saberial had expressed the same question during one of their outings. It’d taken Teep half an hour to explain that no, they hadn’t killed three thousand people on the account of it being  _ mass manslaughter  _ and Teep is firmly against the concept. That’s strange, coming from someone who offed others for professional gain, but Teep has standards.

Zylus watches the fire. Teep turns their head to watch Rythian and Ravs spar. Rythian’s improving, though his footwork and punches are still sloppy. Grinning, Ravs gets Rythian into a headlock, ruffling Rythian’s hair. Rythian splutters, teleporting out- right into a rock that makes him trip.

“It’s good to know that you don’t hurt innocents,” Zylus finally says, hounded by a memory of laughing bandits picking through the remains of a burnt town. It’d been a town he’d visited the day before, filled with people who hadn’t done anything and yet. He rubs his left eye, leaving the memory be to recede.

“There are people who do and they don’t get very far in my line of work,” Teep signs. “The rest of us try to avoid that as much as we can.”

“Why were you interested in starships?” Zylus delicately changes the subject.

“It seemed interesting.” As interesting as the insomnia made it out to be, at the time.

“It sounds like you had your own ship at some point,” Zylus says, sounding wistful.

“You sound like you know how to fly,” points out Teep.

“I do. I used to be a Dahl captain. Before I ended up on Pandora, that is.” Zylus taps the rank embedded in his head. “You’d probably know all about that, though.”

“No, I don’t, actually. Never stuck around long enough to find out where I’d fucking end up.”

“What would you have done if you hadn’t been a soldier?”

“I don’t know.” Teep puts down their hand after signing that. “Never gave it any serious thought.”

“I’d like to fly again,” Zylus softly says. “I don’t think I can, not with a missing eye.” He laughs. “Did you see me missing all my shots back there? That’s why I use rockets. Easier to get hits with them.”

“But if you had an eye and a ship, you could fly again.”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking of, but yes, I probably could.” Zylus peers at Teep, unsure at what they’re onto.

Teep shrugs. “Remind me to give you more lessons in sharpshooting sometime, provided you aren’t too drunk from Ravs’ moonshine.”

“What are you two talking about?” Ravs flops down next to Zylus, wiping off the sweat on his brow with the back of his hand.

Rythian settles next to Teep, grumbling under his breath about Ravs being too hands-on.

Three weeks later, Teep strides over to Zylus, who is dismantling a busted engine. Behind them, Rythian and Ravs wait with bated breath.

“Got something for you,” Teep signs. “Give me your hand.”

Zylus puts down the wrench to obey. A cardboard box the size of his palm is dropped into his waiting hand. His fingers close around it. “What’s this?” He examines it, turning it this way and that in the sun.

“Open it already!” Ravs eagerly says. “We spent our last three jobs’ pay on it and Teep covered the rest.”

From the box, Zylus withdraws an eye. It’s not an organic eye, it’s a cybernetic eye, a dark grey color filled with the same blue as Rythian’s. It weighs nothing. Zylus keeps a hold of it, looking over at the three.

“Secondhand, but it still works,” Rythian proudly says. “Took us a while to track down somebody who’d sell us a decent one.”

“Do you like it?” Ravs asks, anxiously watching Zylus.

Zylus stores the eye in his inventory. His remaining eye is already watering.

Teep, Ravs and Rythian had been leaving him alone at the campsite, intent on running the jobs without him. At first, he’d been content have time to chat with BebopVox. Doubt eventually crept in, teaming up with suspicion to make him think that the three didn’t really want him around.

They’d been rather hush about the jobs and where all the pay had been going, always an issue when there’s four people to feed. The sooner they’d rested up, they’re out again on another job. Exhausted, Ravs and Rythian tended to pass out once they returned. 

As the only one not asleep by then, Teep hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with where the three had been going. Zylus had given up wanting to know, running into cryptic responses and a change in topic early on.

All the money had been going towards getting him a new eye. They must have visited every town on the east coast to find a decent vendor.

BebopVox prompts him via a message to say ‘thank you’.

“Thank you.” Zylus sniffles, his voice wobbling.

“We just need to find you a doctor to put that eye in,” Rythian says, evidently relieved that Zylus appreciates the gift.

“I know one. I just have to go there.” Zylus doesn’t want to return to the doctor who’d ripped out his original eye but on Pandora, he can’t afford to be picky. 

“We also have another surprise but it can wait until you get your eye installed,” Ravs says, winking. Zylus blushes, just because he can.

\--

Exactly two weeks after Zylus has settled in T-Bone Junction, Teep lets Ravs and Rythian know that they’ll be gone for a couple of days. They won’t really need that long but just in case (because Rythian tended to fret otherwise), they say so. Neither ask any questions. Teep is grateful for that.

The Fast Travel Station deposits them a click or so away from their destination. Returning is easier than leaving. Teep wishes that it's the case for all other ordeals, patiently retracing their steps through the landscape. Not much has changed.

Now where they need to be, Teep finds the setting in their inventory, flicking it off. Their ship decloaks, the hull silently rippling into existence. Teep unlocks the hatch, stepping inside.

They hadn’t expected to return this soon, if ever. Not a lot of dust has collected. When Teep checks the neglected engine, all it needs is a change in fuel, plus some tune-ups, replacement parts and of course, removing the broken long-distance drive. Otherwise, it’ll be good for short stints; probably good to the moon and back.

The last of their belongings are piled into their inventory. Sweeping down and airing the whole ship takes about fifteen minutes. With nothing else left to do, Teep closes the hatch. The cockpit is as they left it, barring a thin layer of dust.

The ship takes off without a hitch, none of the noises that signalled a fault anywhere to be found. That’s something of a small comfort, in that it’s been through so much and is still happy to serve. 

Out of nostalgia, Teep takes it for one last joyride into the sky, skating through the clouds and into the atmosphere.

If they wanted to, they could leave the planet and go back to the life they abandoned. Nothing will have changed. Perhaps they could pick up where they left off.

Remembering Panda, Teep grips the joysticks, their thumbnails pinching the inside of their gloves. The decision to stay or go tears at their being, the same pain that’d driven them to abandon all that they knew. It hurts. It hurts, not like a bullet wound, a broken bone or a torn muscle; nothing will make it ever stop hurting, save for choosing one choice over the other.

They turn their head, taking in the planet beneath them through the reinforced glass. Before them lies the stars, full of endless possibilities. And so is the planet below.

They can’t keep running forever. There’s nowhere else to run to. It’s the end of the line.

With a heavy hand, Teep steers the ship downwards towards T-Bone Junction. The flight takes about half an hour. 

Up here, Teep takes a few minutes to enjoy the view. It strikes them as odd how they’ve never done that before, taking it for granted with every world they visited, up until now. What else have they taken for granted? No single answer will suffice.

In T-Bone Junction, Zylus is waiting patiently, as per the message Teep sent them. 

Zylus’ eyes widen at the ship that gently touches down onto the landing pad; it’s one of the most beautiful ships he’s ever seen in his whole life. It really does take his breath away. BebopVox reminds him to breathe upon detecting his intake of air being insufficient.

“How’s your eye?” Teep asks as they step through the open hatch and onto the platform. People eye up the ship with fearful curiosity. Teep’s cursory glance (doubling as ‘go do that important thing you need to do before I come over there’) drives them off.

Pleased that Teep remembers, Zylus begins pleasantly, “It’s fine, just a little hard to see out of since-” He stops, glaring at Teep who seems mildly entertained at the successful distraction. “Don’t change the subject!” Zylus accuses, pointing at the ship behind Teep. “Is that really yours?”

“Yes, it is. Before you accuse me of stealing it, I paid for it with actual money. I have the receipt still.” Teep pats the side of the ship. To Zylus, the gesture seems affectionate; Teep would have denied it if he’d pointed it out. “It’s now yours.”

There’s no way Teep could have signed that. The software must be fucking up. “Didn’t catch that,” Zylus says, an odd feeling in his chest pressing against his lungs.

“It’s now yours,” Teep clearly signs.

“You’re fucking joking. There’s no way I could ever own a ship like that.” Zylus steps back, shaking his head. He’d have to work thirty solid years of backbreaking labor to make enough to even afford one wing of that ship.

Teep gestures for him to enter the ship. Zylus follows, only because he’d imagine that Teep would drag him in if they had to. Teep leads him to the engine room below. 

“It needs a tune-up, fuel change and whatever else you can think of. You can get rid of that drive.” A point indicates the hole in said drive. “It doesn’t work anymore. Not for interplanetary trips.” That wipes the hope off Zylus’ face. Even if the ship had worked, Zylus still wouldn’t have used it to leave.

So, why is Teep giving them their ship, even if it’s damaged to this extent? It hits Zylus like a bolt: they’re condemning themself to stay on Pandora, just like everybody else who came to this fucking planet, whether of their own free will or not. 

Zylus had wrongly assumed that Teep would have left once they got bored or finished up their business. What are they hoping to achieve by staying? Somehow, he knows that he won’t get a straight answer out of Teep if he’d asked.

“So, you can't leave Pandora either, for whatever reason,” Zylus softly concludes.

Teep nods, not elaborating. Their explanation would probably make Zylus return the ship. That’s not what Teep wants. “I’ve already transferred ownership to you.”

“Since when?” Zylus sharply glances at Teep. That’d been horrendously fast, raising the question of whether or not Teep had thought this through. They probably had. Now he’s just being in denial.

“Just now.”

“You’re really serious about me owning the ship.” Zylus utters a laugh of disbelief that’s softened by the enormity of the gesture. “ _ Why _ ?” First the eye, now  _ this _ . It seems far too generous.

“You ask too many questions,” Teep derisively signs, shaking their head. “But you seem to know your stuff. I don’t, so I don’t deserve to keep it-”

“That’s bullshit!” Zylus throws a hand out, gesturing to the drives and engines. From here, he can see what sort of repairs Teep’s been up to; those repairs had kept the ship running as best as it could, which is more than what other people could have done in their place. “You know almost as much as I do when it comes to taking care of a ship!”

Teep folds their arms over their chest. “If you don’t want the ship, then scrap it.”

That’s not the point he’s making. Zylus blurts, “No!” The notion of such a gorgeous ship ending up on the scrap heap physically  _ hurts. _

“So you’re keeping it then?” The smug way Teep signs makes Zylus open his mouth to argue, then close it, swallowing. He runs a hand over his face. The ship is really his, then. All his.

“It looks like I don't have any choice if you keep twisting my words like that.” Again, Zylus laughs. “Does the ship have a name?”

“Greenman.” At the look on Zylus’ face, Teep adds as an dry explanation, “I lost a bet and had to change the name.”

“It suits the ship,” Zylus says.

“You can change it to whatever you like.” Teep steps out of the engine room. Zylus follows. “Rip up the inside of the ship if you want, move the cockpit or do whatever. It’s customisable so if you wanted more room, you can just expand the inside.”

“That’d ruin the ship, though.” Teep knows that they’ve chosen well in the way Zylus sounds indignant about having to modify the ship to suit his purposes.

“It’s yours to ruin.” Teep exits into the evening air, ducking under the hatch doorway. Zylus mimics them.

“I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” Zylus runs a hand down the ship’s side, marvelling at the design. They don’t make ships like these anymore. He still can’t believe it’s his, even if he can see the notification of being the proud new owner of one ‘Greenman’ flashing in his HUD. “Thank you.” He smiles, earning a shrug from Teep. “There’s a job up on the moon that needs a ship and a pilot that I might go for.”

“I’ll take a rain check on that.” Teep nods at Zylus, stepping towards the building housing the Fast Travel Station. “ECHO me if you need a hand for tracking down parts.” 

They leave Zylus to figure out what to do with his new ship, trying their best to skirt around the newly torn invisible hole in their chest. The feeling is identical to the one that’d cut through them upon realising that they’d been forced to leave Panda to die, once John’s identity had merged with that of Panda’s.

Losing all grasp of the present now would be inconvenient, so Teep peruses the list of Fast Travel stops. It’s not like there’s a massive rush to use the Fast Travel so they can dawdle all they want.

One last glance is stolen of the ship through the orange glass in the building, as they’re inputting the coordinates to where Ravs and Rythian are waiting. Teep carefully imprints the image of their ship as best as they can into their memory, alongside the way Zylus’ face had lit up upon seeing it touch down.

The latter vastly outweighs their own happiness, which had amounted to very little to begin with.

With that, one of the last pieces of their former life is out of their hands. All they have left is their favourite sniper rifle, plus a few choice reminders they didn’t want to part with yet. It’ll be over their dead body that they’ll let that gun go. 

Everything else, like their own life, is up for grabs to the first person who could claim it. It’s simply a question of who.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (did all those games mean anything. or was it all a lie. like the cake.)  
> that concludes the first chapter of teep’s btb fic. the next chapter i’m working on is hatfilms chapter two 8)
> 
> there’s not a lot to say here since this is just the start of said fic. two people meeting up within the six galaxies takes an extraordinary amount of effort. imagine what would have happened if teep never accidentally walked into the grocery store! things would have gone a lot differently.
> 
> this is one of those fics where online friendships feature quite heavily. teep, panda and saberial did talk way more often than the snippets that are written here feature; time does pass between each of those conversations and with every chat, their relationships developed further. i hope that i showcased that as well as possible.
> 
> panda and teep did view each other as both best friends and rivals, something that constantly baffles the people who know them as they flip between ‘trolling and saving each other’. it also drives saberial up the wall.
> 
> that said, saberial is a mediator between the two online and IRL. her relationships with panda and teep are more grounded and serious; teep doesn’t troll her as often as a result. panda doesn’t troll her either because she could punch them and her punches hurt. a lot. all three’s arcs are still ongoing and from hereon, i hope to feature saberial and panda a bit more heavily in other fics since i’ve actually grown to like writing them! which is not a surprising thing to happen as i go about doing stuff in this au, so yep.
> 
> the other thing i want to note for saberial is that mercenaries aren’t in an ideal position to date or meet people. it’s not a problem for teep or panda since they don’t do the dating thing. saberial on the other hand, is still trying to balance both her professional and love lives. someday she hopes to meet a cute girl who is okay with her occasionally running off to shoot stuff so she can afford nice things for the two of them. we all know how well that’s going to go once saberial arrives on pandora 8)
> 
> anyway, this fic is going to be either three or four chapters long; all the planning for that is still ongoing, but i’m going to probably alternate between hatfilms fic and teep fic until a good portion of both fics are out before i return to writing ‘tlvh’.
> 
> thanks for reading. all the doodles by the brilliant siins are located over here!


	2. a mark like no other.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two vault hunters enter the vault. two very different people walk out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of guns and violence inbound as usual, kiddos. also, heads up for a scene involving the amputation of an arm due to frostbite. that scene’s glossed over but there is discussion of it. there’s another scene midway in which involves psychological fuckery, body horror and torture, resulting in scarring caused by severe burns. that’s the scene where rythian’s back is fucked to hell, so if you’re uncomfortable with that, feel free to skip that scene.

At the opposite ends of the six galaxies, two people stare at the mess they created.

\--

One lowers the hand curled around the gun. The smoking shotgun vanishes into the depths of their inventory.

All around them, bodies litter the glossy floor of the excavation site. The last body in front of them topples, joining the others, forehead trickling blood through the tidy hole created in the Atlas helmet. 

The shooter’s hands begin to shake as they wipe the blood splatters from their face. The rush of blood soaring through their head crashes through their senses, coating it to enrich the scene within their brain so that they can’t forget.

There will be time later, to cry and mourn. Now it’s time to leave.

Their emergency bag’s been packed for two weeks; the premature opening of the Vault had forced their hand. They’d specifically  _ warned  _ the other scientists that this particular Vault contained an entity that couldn’t be reasoned with. The numerous translations carved into the walls of this Vault told as much. A great big flashing sign had said ‘don’t press this button’, and well, people are hilariously good at ignoring signs.

As per typical Atlas operations, if negotiations with the entity failed, brute force served as the main plan to force its cooperation, even if the entity delivered what it promised once freed.

The massacre began after the Vault Key had been wrested from the artifact room and plugged in on the central platform.

Even one pylon deactivating meant that  _ she  _ could strain against her prison.

Which is exactly what  _ she  _ did. The taste of freedom, so close, made  _ her  _ reckless. As the first Guardians spawned from their interdimensional holdings to clear  _ her _ path, the Atlas soldiers opened fire on the unexpected appearance of the escort. Screams, moans and shrieks filled the air sa the Guardians responded in turn.It’d probably been her way of showing her gratitude.

Amongst the chaos, the experimental short-range teleporter (one of her gifts made real by human hands, sourced from her extensive archives) had allowed them to sneak in and yank out the Vault Key before the first pylon could cool.

The few soldiers left had turned on them like they’d been a thief rather than a savior. The Guardians panicked, flitting about between gunfire and plasma shots, not sure whether to divide and conquer. 

Fear, luck and resolve drove them to lift the borrowed shotgun and fire their way back into the main hallway, never mind that they’re executing former friends, colleagues and superiors. Guardians followed, falling to defensive Atlas turrets.

Alone, the shameful walk back to their room to retrieve their bag meant that they had to witness the carnage firsthand. Once  _ she  _ had no way of calling them back, she’d recalled the Guardians. She’s biding her time, waiting until the lure of knowledge drew them closer again. 

They’re not falling for that again.

Staggering out into the fresh air, the figure stumbles towards their room. They empty out their stomach into the bathroom sink, dry heaving for a few moments.

Of course it’d all just happened, you fool, now there’s no turning back. You’re the only one who’s  _ left _ .

Water splashes in the sink, washing the taint of murder away. The figure drags themself over to their study desk, bag already in hand.

Their thesis and field notebooks. They’d just been paging through that a few hours ago, wondering if the whole project’s worth it, and their degree.

The whole lot’s all gathered up, including all their loose notes, drawings and sketches. It’s carried out to an open barrel belching smoke, the soldiers’ barbeque that’ll never happen. They recoil at the extreme heat rolling out, clutching the notebooks and thesis to the point of forever creasing the covers.

The fire jumps to an offered page, blackening a corner, spreading towards the edges.

They drop the thesis and notebooks, smothering the books with handfuls of loose sand. The smell of burning pages fills the air. Dry-heaving again (stop, there’s nothing left in their stomach), they crouch, tugging at their hair and trying not to hyperventilate. They can’t  _ do  _ it- the thesis  _ is  _ their whole reason for coming to Pandora. Getting rid of it would be like cutting out their heart. Hiding it, though.

The thesis and notebooks are buried behind their former room, in a hole that would have served as a grave, had the soldiers succeeded in killing them.

Traitor, traitor, traitor, the dead murmur.

They burn the rest of their belongings, whatever they can’t take with them. Piled into the barrel, their Atlas ID, field uniform, various papers and authorisations to work at the dig site, all their dead colleagues’ precious papers, and anything else they could get their hands on that proved that once upon a time, there’d been people here.

They tug the purple scarf up higher on their face. That’s another item that they refuse to burn. Holding the Vault Key in their hand, they drop it on top of the smoking wreck that’s their life.

Dressed in the civilian clothes stolen from requisitions, they feel like a new person already: a mass murderer who’s not going to look back. 

There hadn’t been much to fit a young adult who’s hit the end of their growth spurt stage, painfully skinny no matter how much they ate, already a head taller than everybody else on the dig team. If the clothes will help them fit in on Pandora, they won’t complain.

Rythian takes the Fast Travel Station, leaving the Vault of the Queen behind. The site’s engulfed by darkness from the backup generators failing to turn on.

In the burning barrel, the Vault Key shudders in the flames, jittering as it pulses with a purple glow. It phases through dimensions to nearly burn a hole in his coat pocket.

\--

The  _ other _ person pauses at the top of the wire fence. In the dead of the night during a surprise Vladof raid, nobody expects a Dahl soldier to be deserting their own unit. Said unit’s holding the front gates. 

Nobody’s paying close attention as to who’s present and who’s not, not until the fighting’s over, and the fighting could take hours. Identifying bodies took longer, especially when matching up dog tags to dental records and profiles.

The hooded figure in dark green begins to climb down the fence, never an easy feat with a sniper rifle strapped to their back. Dangling off one shoulder, a backpack clinks. It’s filled with digistruct modules containing money, survival gear, various stuff nicked from requisitions and five loot caches worth of Dahl guns.

Once their boots hit the ground, the figure begins to trudge up the hill towards the Fast Travel Station. Ten minutes later, their footprints are brushed away to become part of the snowfall.

Four hours later, the Dahl regiment will realise that  _ someone _ had made off with their best sniper rifles, the remaining half of their armory and premium rations.

It had to fucking happen right in the middle of a blizzard too.

\--

Blue eyes fly open. Sitting bolt upright, Rythian rubs at his forehead. He makes a disgusted face at all the sweat there wetting the back of his hand. 

For one second, he’d  _ believed _ that he’s back at the dig site, filled with the terror of what’s behind the door and holding a shotgun that’ll do him no good- pictures of cats watch him from the walls of the room, each devious smile sinister in the dark.

There’s nothing like a lucid flashback embedded in a dream to make him question his grasp on reality. Rythian hugs himself, willing his breathing to  _ please  _ drop a notch; hyperventilating’s never helped. He wets the inside of his mouth, swallowing the lump that’d formed there in his disturbed sleep.

The scarred, thick arm wrapped around his midriff jostles him, moving further up his chest to force him back down onto the bed.

Ravs mumbles in the distracted tones of someone who’ll be asleep again by the end of his sentence, “Go back to sleep.”

That’s easy for him to say, he’d just gotten shot a few hours ago.

Thanks to the insistent arm around his middle, Rythian takes a few seconds to resettle, staring at the ceiling. Under the circumstances, sharing a bed’s inevitable. While the floor’s carpeted, Ravs had been vehement about  _ not _ allowing Rythian to sleep on the floor.

The two hadn’t been about to go and pester Nilesy for  a separate room. Current expenses are stretched thin as it is, and Rythian and Ravs aren’t about to let Teep pay for another week of rations out of pride. While they didn’t appear to mind, constantly depending on them’s an insult to Ravs and Rythian’s ingrained sense of self-sufficiency.

Plus, in sharing a room, Rythian and Teep can keep an eye on Ravs. Until his wound’s fully healed, the three aren’t going anywhere yet.

In the heat of the room, practically pressed up against Rythian’s side, Ravs is like an extra blanket. He’s a very  _ nice _ blanket, but Rythian’s already stripped down to his pants. If he doesn’t open a window or something, he’s going to overheat, or spend the rest of the long night on the soft carpeted floor.

This is the first proper bed he’s slept in within the past two months. He’ll be damned if he lets a little excessive warmth drive him out of it. On the other hand, there’s sweat gathering on his chest where Ravs’ hand is currently resting. A shower’s pointless, when the night’s this muggy.

The cooler air circulating throughout the hotel doesn’t quite reach up past the first level, not unless someone (probably Teep) fiddle with the room’s vent.

When Rythian turns his head to the side, Ravs has his face buried in the pillow, continuing his peaceful slumber like he hadn’t just basically woken up and cuddled Rythian following a nightmare.

Over in the window seat, Teep’s hooded silhouette shifts. Bordered by stylish paw-print curtains, they would have been another shadow in the room if Rythian hadn’t known they’d been sitting there. Their insomnia’s acting up again; they should have been trying to sleep rather than keeping watch. 

Here in the sleepy beachside town of Oasis, there’s nothing to keep watch of, save for the passing of time and the changing tides.

A foil packet thwaps against Rythian’s arm. Fingertips find it, bringing it close to his face. It’s a condom, still preserved in its packet.

> He’s up all night to get some.

Face heating up, Rythian flings the packet into the bin before feeling under his head. An unlucky pillow’s grabbed by a corner and lobbed at Teep’s head.

“Shut up,” He hisses as Teep catches the pillow. It vanishes behind a billowing curtain.

> Mine now.

His impulsive stunt’s cost him a precious pillow. Rythian glances down at Ravs’ arm keeping him in the bed, turning his glare on Teep. Teep’s outline shivers, like they’re laughing at his dilemma. 

His digistruct modules are on the table, well within reach.

An outstretched hand teleports Teep into the bed to land by his side. Teep bounces on the bed, flinging both hands out to stop themself from falling off. Rythian latches onto the pillow Teep’s holding. The move wakes Ravs. He lets go of Rythian as he props himself up on an elbow.

“Hey, now, can’t a guy sleep in peace without waking up to a threesome?” He blinks at the two of them, yawning.

“Apparently not, according to Rythian,” Teep responds.

“Give me back my pillow,” Rythian demands, not looking at Ravs because while Ravs is wide awake, he’s something, but a sleepy Ravs is  _ something. _

“Teep, give Rythian back his pillow,” Ravs says, flopping back down.

“No, he threw it at me, so I get to keep it.” Teep tucks said pillow under their head, moving to lie down.

“Rythian, why’d you throw your pillow?” He sounds too amused.

“Because Teep was being  _ annoying, _ ” Rythian grunts, trying to yank the pillow out from under Teep. Teep hangs onto it, refusing to budge.

Rythian manages to get a hand under Teep’s head and tries to shove them off. Teep elbows him in the ribs, painfully- Teep’s elbow is  _ freezing _ .

Ravs budges up on his side to let the two have ample room to tussle, figuring out it’ll be over in a few minutes.

“Why is your elbow so cold?” Rythian stares at Teep, letting go of the pillow. 

It’s his loss; Teep gets out of the bed, taking the pillow back to the window seat. They smugly smooth it out, settling in their previous spot. He spots the shield hanging off their belt, glinting in the moonlight.

A solution presents itself. Grinning, Rythian teleports Teep again. This time, they don’t get up, staying where they are.

“What is it this time?” They sign with one hand, appearing displeased by his summons.

Rythian hugs them before they can get away.

> Know that I am not as good a cuddler as Ravs is.

“You are now,” Rythian mutters. Heat on one side, and cold on the other: perfect.

“All sorted out now? Good.” Ravs rolls over, smiling to himself. Nothing out of the ordinary- a warmth is soaking his side. He sits up, throwing the sheets off. “ _ Shit,  _ my bandages are bleeding.”

> Good job, Rythian.

“It wasn’t me!”

“One of you turn on the light, I’ll need to change my bandages…”

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Daltos: Stop sending me dick pics.

Daltos: You’re the dick, obviously.

Ravs: Hey, you like the dick pics.

Daltos: Well, I’m not denying that.

Daltos: Who’s the hooded one?

Ravs: A close friend of mine. They photobombed me when I was taking that selfie.

Daltos: They any good at jobs?

Ravs: Depends on what kind of ‘job’ you’re talking about.

Daltos: Stuff that bandits can’t do, or else I’d have another war on my hands if they all knew I was behind it.

Ravs: I’ll ask. Is it urgent?

Daltos: Nah, not really.

Ravs: Alright, can it wait until they get back from Elpis?

Daltos: It can wait.

Ravs: Don’t forget about this weekend and lunch after.

Daltos: Yeah, yeah, meet you at noon at this place, don’t bring anyone, don’t murder anyone on the way there, I got you.

Ravs: See you then.

Daltos: Ugh, don’t be disgusting.

Ravs: I’m only blowing you a kiss!

Daltos: Well, you can kiss my dick- stop looking so interested.

Ravs: But you have a very nice dick-

Daltos: We’re not talking about my dick over ECHO.

Ravs: We could talk about mine instead.

Daltos: The only thing I got to say is that yours is a fucking joke.

Ravs:  _ Wow _ .

Daltos: Heh, I got a meeting to run, so-

Arsenal: Your dick is bomb, Ravs!

Ravs: Thanks! Would you look at that, somebody appreciates my dick more than you.

Daltos: Piss off Arsenal, this is a private call.

Arsenal: Psh, it ain’t private if you’re ECHOing Ravs in the war room while waiting for the other useless fucks to show up.

Daltos: It’s private if I say it’s private.

Arsenal: Daltos is just salty that you got a bigger dick than him. Here, look, I’ll show you-

Daltos: Arsenal-

Ravs: I can’t believe you’re trying to pull his pants down for me. I’m really touched, Arsenal.

Arsenal: It ain’t  _ easy,  _ that’s for  _ sure. _

Daltos: Get your hand out of my-

Arsenal: Arado! This totally ain’t what it looks like, what with my hand down the front of his pants and we’re both up against the wall like we’re getting it on.

Arado: It totally looks like that from where I’m standing.

Ravs: -is too busy laughing to be coherent-

Arado: I’ll let the others know you two need ten minutes, how about that?

Arsenal: Tell them he needs less than that- ow.

Daltos: I fucking  _ hate  _ you, Arsenal. And Ravs, shut up.

Arsenal: Yikes, that’s gonna bruise by tomorrow.

Daltos: Then you shouldn’t have had your hand down my pants!

Ravs: Thanks for the laughs, I’ll see you two later.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

The dust covered residents of T-Bone Junction stare at the two Vault Hunters standing on Zylus’ doorstep. Teep glances in their direction. The cursory look scatters them, allowing Rythian to knock on Zylus’ door in peace.

“Zylus! Are you in?” Rythian calls out. He glances sideways at Teep. “You sure Zylus lives here?”

“Yes,” Teep signs. “Look, just teleport in.”

“He might be busy,” Rythian points out, right as Zylus opens the door to shyly peer out at them. He brightens, pulling the door back.

“Rythian, Teep! What are you doing here?” He lets them in. A wonderfully cool breeze wafts out. The closing door seals the rest in.

“It’s nice in here,” Rythian compliments. 

He can count a few pieces of refurbished furniture waiting to be positioned, a nice improvement on Zylus’ part. Last time, Zylus had only a cot to call his, and a falling apart cardboard box to serve as a coffee table. 

Ravs, Rythian and Teep hadn’t minded sitting on the floor but Zylus wouldn’t stop apologizing until Ravs had yanked him onto the floor too.

“It sucks in here,” Teep signs.

“Well, you can always wait outside instead,” Zylus points out.

“No, Rythian might get lost trying to find the bathroom without me,” Teep deadpans. That causes Rythian to glare at them, because that had been just  _ one  _ time in Haven (the old or new one, it doesn’t matter).

“Where’s Ravs?” Zylus picks up on the lack of a kilt wearing figure in tow. It shouldn’t disappoint him, but.

“Househunting, apparently,” Rythian says. He’d never expected Ravs to be househunting. Then again, Ravs is capable of a lot of things when he chooses to put his mind to it. Like learning how to read and write again.

“Seriously?” Zylus giggles behind a hand.

“Seriously. He said he wanted to try settling down a bit.” Rythian tries not to sound so envious when he says that. 

Settling down is one of those distant, far off goals that other people eventually ticked off their bucket list. For Rythian, and possibly Teep, settling down is out of their universe altogether. Teep had said as much; he can’t imagine Teep doing anything remotely  _ domestic _ if somebody doesn’t end up dying in the process.

“I thought you’d be with him,” Zylus admits. 

Zylus, on the other hand, is so  _ domestic  _ that Rythian wonders how Zylus hasn’t ended up dating or married already since moving into T-Bone Junction. A few people had thrown interested looks at him when he’d opened the door.

There’s an awkward pause where Rythian works out that Zylus had assumed that the three would do everything together, including househunting. With a shake of his head, Rythian dispels the mental image.

Ravs hadn’t asked him, Teep or Zylus to come along or anything, which admittedly, kind of hurts. Teep probably doesn’t give a shit about being invited along.

“I would,” He says, keeping his voice level, “but I have to go up to Elpis.” The shitty excuse works on Zylus, at least. 

Teep gives Rythian a sharp look that says ‘you are so full of shit right now’. He ignores it.

“Then you’ve come to see the right person!” Zylus’ face lights up. “Good thing I’m taking off in two hours. Do you want some tea, by the way? I just unpacked some...”

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Daltos: Why am I here again?

Ravs: You are here to give me an unbiased opinion on the neighborhood.

Daltos: Okay, here’s my unbiased opinion: let’s kill your new neighbors and fucking take over.

Ravs: For the third time, this isn’t bandit country.

Daltos: Not like it matters. It’ll soon be bandit country once I hit up this place.

Ravs: You can’t hit up the place I’m going to live in.

Daltos: You’ll thank me after.

Ravs: Just behave.

Daltos: I’ll try.

Agent: Oh, um, you must be Mister Ravs!

Ravs: It’s very nice to meet you! You’re the first person who’s willing to help out a former bandit and Vault Hunter get settled.

Agent: Well, I must say, you’re very easy on the eyes for a former-

Daltos: Ahem.

Ravs: And this is Daltos, he’s here to help me pick a place!

Daltos: Yeah. Right. Sure.

Agent: It’s nice to meet you too? I didn’t know you’d be bringing anyone along, Mister Ravs-

Ravs: Just Ravs, thanks. I’m not that old- Daltos, stop laughing.

Daltos: Not sorry.

Ravs: So, what’s the first place like?

Agent: It’s just up the road. It might be a little small for you two-

Ravs: That doesn’t matter, we’ll have a look at it!

Daltos: I don’t like the neighborhood.

Ravs: You’ve only been here for ten seconds.

Agent: Well, this is it. I can let you in to have a look.

Ravs: You can do that?

Agent: Yes!

Ravs: This is news to me!

Agent: Here on Pandora, we er, try to keep to real estate customs, if the seller permits.

Ravs: Can I just say that you’re doing a fantastic job already.

Agent: T-thanks.

Daltos: No thanks, looking at it from here, I can tell that it-

Ravs: We’ll go inside.

Agent: I’ll wait out here and let you two talk about it. Do look through all the rooms! I’ll be here if you have any further questions.

Ravs: We’ll keep that in mind.

Daltos: Alright, this place looks like it had a murder happen in it that wasn’t cleaned up right. I can still smell the blood in the air.

Ravs: Don’t be silly, that’s just the river. A very dark river, with bits of metal sticking out of it and a bunch of mutated threshers.

Daltos: The river smells like an iron factory took a dump in it. You’re not moving in here. Your balls would probably get tetanus if you took a dip in the water.

Ravs: -is laughing too hard to be coherent-

Agent: Well?

Ravs: I’m terribly sorry, but it’s not what we’re looking for, what with the view out back and all.

Agent: Well, there’s ten other places we have on the list. I’d be happy to take you to the next!

Daltos: Yippie-fucking-yay.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

“So this is Elpis.” Rythian draws back from the window as the ship touches down on the runway. He draws his scarf in closer around him. The temperature’s already dropped below what he’s used to, causing goosebumps to spring up along his arms. “Gravity’s not that bad as I expected.”

“The gravity here can still trip you up,” Zylus warns. He spawn three Oz kits, handing Rythian one.“Here, this’ll help you survive out there.”

“Thanks.” Rythian balances it on his shoulder. The ship comes to a complete stop, shuddering before stilling. He unlocks his seatbelt, getting up from his seat.

“Teep, you’re not taking one?” Zylus offers Teep the remaining one.

“Don’t need one,” Teep signs, pointing to the lower half of their face. They’re already at the hatch leading outside.

“Are you human?” Rythian peers at Teep. “Because I’m pretty sure you need air to live.”

“I’m one hundred percent human,” Teep reassures. They still don’t take the Oz kit Zylus offers them. That doesn’t help Rythian or Zylus. Looking skeptical, Zylus affixes an Oz kit to his own shoulder, getting up from his seat. The spare flies into a side compartment.

Teep unlocks the hatch which falls slowly.

Deciding that he doesn’t need to be a mother hen if they need the blasted thing or not, Rythian ducks out of the hatch and takes his first step onto Elpis- and narrowly avoids tripping onto the ground face-first. It’s like somebody’s added gas to his limbs, making them feel lighter than usual, discombobulating him.

Chuckling, Zylus steps out after him, followed by Teep. Both make no move to help a grumbling Rythian regain his footing. After locking the hatch, Zylus leads Teep and Rythian to the cliffside lift. 

During the two minutes in which the three wait for it to descend with all the speed of a motorized scooter, Rythian learns all about Zylus’ new job during the small talk.

He’s the pilot in charge of ferrying supplies, mail, parts and anything else between Elpis and Pandora on a regular basis. Teep spends the time harassing the lift button like it’ll speed up the lift’s descent.

Given how much the two had helped him out, Zylus waives the usual fee for the trip. As the lift rises, Zylus rubs at his left eye.

“When you meet Minty, please try to get along with her.”

“Who’s Minty?” Rythian glances at Teep. Teep shrugs as they’re repeatedly pressing the lift button to go ‘up’.

“She’s the sheriff of Concordia,” Zylus says. “So she gets to decide whether or not you can stay here.”

“Oh,  _ sheriff _ .” Rythian doesn’t have anything against sheriffs, provided they leave him alone.

“She’s not that bad!” Zylus says, spotting the way Rythian’s eyes narrow in disdain. Zylus’ tone is exceedingly careful, like he’s trying not to offend whoever might be listening in or watching.

“I mean, sheriffs aren’t that bad, but that’s what they say on Pandora. I don’t see how one on Elpis is any different.”

“Space law isn’t that different from planetary law,” Teep signs. “People still don’t have to follow it, for one thing.”

“I’m sure you can tell us all about it,” Rythian dryly says.

“I sure could, after spending five whole fucking hours reading the document back to front.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Before Rythian can confirm, the lift arrives at Concordia. Zylus leads them to the customs office where Bluari checks in the two. 

Bluari nearly cries when Teep fills out the paperwork entirely in lowercase letters. Rythian and Zylus are forced to wait while Teep refills out the form again, this time using capital letters.

That minor ordeal over, Bluari directs the three to the medical bay. Rythian estimates that he and Teep will be here for about two months, unless he finds something of interest that’ll occupy him for longer.

Berym walks the two through the steriliser, eventually granting them clearance to properly enter Concordia.

Given how important Minty is to Zylus, Rythian and Teep opt to meet her. This appears to immensely please Zylus, who leads the two to a bar set in Concordia’s main square.

Rythian and Teep take the rundown stairs. Rythian doesn’t know what to expect of Minty when meeting her in person. 

He’s seen her old wanted poster pasted all over the bounty boards scattered throughout outback towns on Pandora’s east coast. Those  posters eventually had a red ‘PARDONED’ stamped all over them, for whatever reason. He’d felt the eyes on the poster seemingly track him as he’d walked past.

Minty’s mixing a drink for Davechaos. She places their cocktail through the cage bars before retreating behind the counter. She’s almost as tall as Ravs, dressed like a sheriff who takes proper pride in their appearance.

“Zylus, what do you have for me this time?” Minty greets. She raises an eyebrow at spotting Teep and Rythian standing behind him. Her eyes match Rythian’s own, differing in that hers are a shade paler.

“My friends,” Zylus simply says. “Rythian and Teep.”

“Friends.” Minty’s mouth quirks into a fine line. “Let me guess, Vault Hunters?”

“They’re  _ good _ Vault Hunters,” Zylus stresses. “Not like the last lot who ditched Elpis or tore up New Haven.”

“How can I trust you?” Even if it’s a teasing jab, Rythian still doesn’t like her skeptical tone. She should be nicer to Zylus.

“They won’t cause trouble. If they do, you can fire me,” Zylus says, tilting his head up to meet her eyes. His gaze is serious; he means what he said. If Rythian and Teep can’t be trusted, his job’s as good as gone.

“We’re here to sightsee, not destroy,” Rythian says, stepping forward. “We’ll take full responsibility if anything happens because of us.” Hopefully Teep won’t be offended if he takes the lead in speaking for the both of them.

“I trust you, you seem like a man who can keep his word.” Minty inclines her head at Teep, narrowing her eyes. “That one, on the other hand, I don’t think so.”

Teep points to themself. “Me? A troublemaker?” The gesture seems sardonic.

Minty laughs, softly. “You’re a wanted fugitive in the inner worlds, and now you turn up on Elpis of all places. My town ain’t  _ safe _ while you’re walking around.”

“That bounty’s old,” Rythian puts forth. “Like yours.”

“I’ve been pardoned, so long as I obey the law.” Minty leans on the counter. Rythian catches sight of a holster under her duster coat.

“Minty, Teep wouldn’t hurt anyone-” Zylus tries.

“Anyone they’re not paid to hurt,” Minty snaps, nearly causing him to flinch from the force of her glare. “If we’d been on Pandora, I’d be bringing them in, Vault Hunter or not.”

“But we’re not on Pandora,” Teep responds. Rythian wants to grab their hands to stop them from signing anything if it’ll mean not making the situation any worse. “So it looks like I’m still a free bitch, baby.”

“Until you pull a gun out in Concordia, and then your ass is mine,” Minty retorts.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Teep signs, rather flippantly.

“Unless you don’t have any guns to pull out, that is.” Minty smirks. “As the sheriff, I get to exercise the right to inspect inventories and confiscate anything that’s deemed dangerous by yours truly.”

“You can’t do that!” Rythian grabs Teep’s arm by the sleeve. “I’ve never heard of that law!”

> You’re not taking anything of mine, not without a fight.

“Are you  _ challenging _ me?” Minty rests her hands on her hips, her left hand’s fingers drumming along her side.

The nut Davechaos is holding plinks onto the floor of their cage. They scramble for it, mumbling apologies for interrupting such a tense moment.

“What if Teep and Rythian stay out of Concordia, unless they need supplies?” Zylus quietly proposes. “And if Teep visits, you just have to supervise them.”

> I would rather stab myself with my own knife.

“Well, I can’t assign Bluari to you, you’d probably send them back to me in tears or ditch them.” Minty taps a fingernail on the counter, looking contemplative. “And I can’t spare anyone else.” She smirks at Teep. “Looks like you get the pleasure of my company during your stay.”

Teep glances at Rythian. Yes, he knows that this is kind of his fault; his need to see the Vault on Elpis is the greater priority over Teep’s annoyance that they’ll essentially be limited in their freedom to explore Concordia.

“Rythian, Teep?” Zylus glances in their direction, his expression pleading.

He doesn’t seem that happy to have proposed as much; the two have to remember that Minty is essentially his employer and they’re guests in her town. She could easily pick on Zylus if they don’t play by her rules. He’s doing his best to compromise.

“I agree,” Rythian quickly says before Teep can do something to get the both of them kicked out of Concordia. Teep has no choice but to follow his lead.

> Fine.

“The rules apply the next time you step into Concordia,” Minty warns. She points to Teep. “If I find you sneaking in, it’s the slammer for you.”

> That’s  _ if _ you catch me.

The challenge thrown down, Teep yanks their arm out of Rythian’s grip, storming off towards the stairs out of the bar. 

Zylus and Rythian share a look. That could have gone far better. Minty huffs. A look of contempt and the shadow on her face tells Rythian that he should keep an eye on Minty and Teep whenever the two are in the same room.

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Agent: Here we are! Place number two, all yours to look at. This neighborhood is quite pleasant! A lot of the places I sell tend to be around here, so pardon my confidence in that I’m sure that you’ll find this one to your liking.

Ravs: You’re very confident! I like that in a seller.

Agent: I’ll wait outside as usual. This place is a little larger than the last one. It has a garden if you got a green thumb!

Ravs: Well! I quite like it. Shame I don’t have any gardening skills to speak of.

Daltos: This place is stupid.

Ravs: You only think it's stupid because the neighbours waved and didn't try to assassinate you.   
Daltos: Yes, but did you see their flowers?

Ravs: They have lovely flowers- give me your lighter, you're not allowed to set them on fire.

Daltos: Give me back my lighter.

Ravs: Make me.

Daltos: You know what, I didn’t want it anyway.

Ravs: Mm, that’s what I thought. I’ll give it back to you after the tour. Come here and have a look at the kitchen.

Daltos: There’s a lot of room for books.

Ravs: No, get over here and have a lot at the kitchen!

Daltos: Is that a stone oven?

Ravs: It is!

Daltos: We could make pizza from scratch.

Ravs: We could. I got a recipe from Minty-

Daltos: Don’t say anything about Minty if you don’t want to ruin this househunting trip for me.

Ravs: I wish you’d get along with her like Arsenal does.

Daltos: First you’ll have to get her to stop being a bitch-

Ravs: You’ll have to stop being one too.

Daltos: Yeah, but I’m your bitch, that’s the difference.

Ravs: Does that mean she’s Arsenal’s-

Daltos: Wrong, Arsenal’s her bitch.

Ravs: -is too busy laughing to be coherent-

Daltos: Also, I take it back, this place is only a little stupid. Let’s hope the stove works.

Ravs: The only problem’s the neighbors.

Daltos: I thought you liked the neighbors?

Ravs: One of them’s sharpening an axe.

Daltos: And so one of them is.

Ravs: Did they just draw a line across their throat?

Daltos: I’m going over there.

Ravs: No, you’re not.

Daltos: I fucking am-

Ravs: Excuse me, but this isn’t the place for us either.

Agent: Really? I really thought that this place might be the one!

Ravs: Well, there’s nine left. I’m sure we’ll find it amongst those.

Daltos: Hopefully without an axe to grind.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

After leaving the bar, Rythian buys supplies from the three odd-sounding people in the black market emporium. Zylus remains by his side the whole time. He apologises profusely. Rythian can’t find it in him to hate Zylus for setting up the encounter. It’s not like Zylus had intended on causing trouble between the two sides.

Still, Zylus hands Rythian several extra canisters of air. “There’s vents in the ground that’ll refill your canisters, but it’s always nice to have a few in an emergency.”

“Thanks, Zylus.”

“If you need a lift back to Pandora, ECHO me and I’ll come and get you right away.” Zylus keeps looking so worried that Rythian can’t help but chuckle.

“We’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have Ravs with you to cook or anything.” Zylus blushes. “I guess I can take some time off and come along-”

“Zylus!” Rythian’s sharp use of his name causes him to flinch, looking guiltier. “Nothing is going to go wrong.” Good grief, Zylus is a mother hen. Rythian almost expects him to dump a carton of spare rations on him next and fuss over his clothing.

“Are you sure? I heard that there’s bad things out there, especially over at Vorago Solitude.”

“Teep and I can handle it.” Rythian pats Zylus’ shoulder. “We’ll keep in touch.” He refrains from pointing out that ‘there are bad things everywhere, Zylus, especially on Pandora’.

“You will?” Zylus doesn’t sound that convinced.

“We will. I will, at least.” Rythian sighs. “Not sure about Teep.”

The two of them don’t see Teep, not until stepping into the room that serves as the perpetually open airlock to Triton Flats. Teep’s sitting against the wall. Their head turns to survey Rythian and Zylus as the two approach.

“Please take care,” Zylus says to them as they get up.

“You’re the one who should be taking care,” Teep points out. “You need a haircut and a shave, you slob.”

“I’ll do that when I get back,” Zylus mumbles. “Listen, about the Oz kit, you really need one or you’ll suffocate-”

With a finger, Teep tugs down the lower half of their face wrappings. Rythian stares at the compact black mask that’d been hidden underneath. 

It looks like something that’d come from a tactical catalogue, or what special forces would equip. The paint job on it gives it two detailed rows of teeth that could probably make someone avoid high definition pictures of carnivores for a couple of months. 

Teep restores the wrappings, turning to walk out the airlock. The transparent field wobbles, resettling.

Rythian shrugs. Zylus sighs, bidding Rythian goodbye as he returns to Concordia. Rythian steps out of the airlock. The cold hits him like an avalanche, causing him to gasp. It’s so  _ cold.  _ Teeth chattering, Rythian steps back into the airlock. In Concordia’s temperature controlled dome, he doesn’t have much to fear. 

Out there, there’s the serious risk of frostbite and other such lovely risks becoming very real. He sighs, spending an extra five minutes changing into winter gear. He doesn’t have much of said gear to begin with. 

Pandora’s climate is hell at best, with a mild bite at worst, generally at night. Bah, he wants to go back to Pandora already. At least there, he didn’t have to worry about his fingers randomly dropping off because he didn’t wear gloves.

Teep arrives at the airlock on an olive Stingray. “Come on, what’s the holdup?” They sign.

“...I’m cold,” Rythian concedes, trying to suppress all bodily shivers.

“Cold, huh?” Teep turns, digging around in their pockets, tugging out a small, orange module. They toss it through the field, which ripples as the object passes through it. Rythian teleports it into his hand before it can smash on the floor. A pair of gloves follow.

“What’s this?” Rythian tugs on the gloves before examining the small object.

“Heat module. Runs on shield batteries, but it’s solar charged as well. It’ll keep you warm. It won’t protect you like a shield does, not until I can mod one for you.”

A shield’s tossed at Rythian. He takes it, clipping it next to the heat module. He can’t remember the last time he’d worn one, probably back when this whole mess had started on Pandora. He hadn’t wanted to scavenge, picking off the dead like- he can’t keep Teep waiting.

The heat from the module that surrounds him nearly makes his toes curl in his boots. When he steps out of the airlock, the cold can’t even touch him. Much more comfortable, Rythian spawns a Stingray. Together, he and Teep take off in the direction of Vorago Solitude.

Half an hour of navigating nothing but crater ravaged terrain leaves Rythian plenty of time to think. He takes the lead. Driving a Stingray doesn’t take much attention. The rest of his attention’s devoted to reflecting on his major finds back on Pandora.

The Eridian ruins had pointed out a bunch of Vaults hidden on both Pandora and Elpis. Elpis possesses a single Vault, buried deep in the moon’s core. 

Hyperion beat him to its opening, and likely took what was inside. That’s fine, Rythian’s not after the contents of the Vault of the Sentinel. He’s after what the Vault says about _other_ Vaults. Eridians left very little behind in the way of maps.

He’s probably the only person who knows that other Vaults exist as a very real existence rather than a myth and urban legend. Sure, Atlas had created other divisions for the Destroyer’s and the Traveler’s Vaults, but those projects had fallen with Atlas’ downfall.

Before leaving the site behind, Rythian had wiped the Atlas databases of his own project and involvement.

There’s bound to be telling gaps, given correspondences with other projects. Well, unless someone found his thesis and took the time to put all the pieces together, those gaps are almost invisible. By then, he’ll long gone with a crucial piece in his keeping, until the planet takes him for good.

Putting together the trinket out of rakk hive bone had been a stroke of genius. Anything bearing the symbol of the Vaults drew attention. A bit of carved, badly painted bone that could have come from any backwater art vendor aiming to make a quick buck didn’t.

It’d taken him a week to carve the bone into a shape that’d fit around the Vault Key. He’d nicked his fingers more than ten times doing it, but he’s proud of his efforts to conceal the fucking thing. It also silenced the concentrated whispers that threaded into his dreams and his head.

When he used to wake, the hand clutching the Vault Key always pointed back to  _ her  _ Vault.

Teep catches up to him, pointing at the landscape cropping up ahead of them that’s their destination. The ground darkens, the grey becoming a poisoned shade of black that reminds Rythian of volcanic ash. When he puts his boots down on solid ground, he almost expects clouds of the stuff to whirl up to make him suffer.

Teep and Rythian despawn their Stingrays, stepping under the metal shelter overlooking Vorago Solitude. 

It’s stocked by several vending machines that could have been newly installed, save for the layer of moon dust caking it. The Fast Travel Station whirs in acknowledgement when Rythian brushes past it to activate the waiting antennae of an oxygen field.

Teep and Rythian avoided the Fast Travel Station Network based on Teep’s warning that Minty could easily track their destination if she wanted to. It wasn’t an issue back on Pandora, what with so many other people to conceal their movements. Here, that’s another setback that the two of them will have to deal with.

One look at the carved river of light-blue, plus the cluster of Dahl buildings is enough to have them equipping guns. Rythian refills his oxygen canisters, the usual hiss keeping the silence at bay. 

While that’s happening, Teep’s poking around the vending machines. Finding nothing of interest in the menus, Teep equips their sniper rifle, peering down the scope. Watching Teep snipe is always a sight to behold; Teep’s hands never shook or twitched. They handle the rifle like it’s an extension of themself.

“See anything?” Rythian inquires. The last can hisses, announcing that it’s done refilling. He slides that one into his inventory, moving to stand besides Teep.

Teep nods, one hand signing, “Bodies.”

“Bodies?” Rythian blinks, staring at the vast expanse of landscape before them.

Buildings implied people living here. They’d arrived here on the assumption that they could sneak in or obtain permission to enter Tycho’s Ribs. 

That said, Zylus had confirmed that Dahl’s operations on Elpis had concluded long ago, with Hyperion’s following suit years later. While Helios shows signs of activity, it doesn’t seem likely to spread to Elpis anytime soon.

All it means is that Rythian and Teep are operating on a time limit. He’s given himself a time limit of a couple of months, give or take a few weeks if he has trouble decoding the ruins, or if the ruins are in a less than ideal condition for him to examine.

“Have a look,” Teep signs, handing over their sniper rifle. Their sniper rifle is of Maliwan make, boasting a corrosive flavor.

Hefting it into his hands, Rythian peers down the scope, allowing Teep’s marker to direct him to what caught their attention.

There are bodies,  _ many  _ bodies, in fact. He follows the trail that leads down into the depths of Vorago Solitude. Handing the rifle back, Rythian ponders on the next course of action.

It looks like they won’t have to worry about getting permission to enter if anybody who still oversees the site’s dead.

Rythian nods, sliding down the hill. Teep follows suit, the sniper rifle slung on their back. The Oz kit’s protective bubble makes his vision swim like he’s underwater. The air meter begins to count down in his HUD. No such bubble surrounds Teep’s head.

Teep gravitates towards the first body in their path, crouching down to flip it over. It’s a Dahl soldier, the dog tags scratched, twisted and bent. Gunshots mar the corpse’s front. What’s baffling are the items tied to the wrists, chest and face, crude child-like approximations of the beings that Rythian used to study, the Eridians.

“What happened here?” Rythian softly muses out loud.

Teep flips the dog tags over, examining the company and unit. They replace the dog tags around the neck, hand folding the corpse’s eyelids shut. Teep doesn’t bother the other bodies that the two of them come across after, nor do they retrieve any weapons left behind.

Rythian can’t help wondering what Teep is feeling right now, to be wandering amongst these bodies, knowing that they’d all been on the same side once, a long time ago.

The two cross the river, the thick, noxious stench of methane filling Rythian’s lungs. He blocks it out as best he can. Nothing can replace the other smell, the one of death hanging over the whole region, appearing to follow him and Teep around.

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Agent: I don’t know about you, but personally, Wam Bam Island is projected to be of our best selling starter packages! We have a deal with the owner of the nearby resort. It’s the perfect place for a young couple-

Daltos: What did you just say?

Ravs: Ignore him, he just doesn’t like sand.

Daltos: Yeah, it’s coarse, rough and irritating, just like you.

Ravs: Give this place a chance, okay?

Daltos: Get your arm off me.

Agent: Well, here’s the key. The hill up that way is hell on my shoes, so I’ll let you two run off ahead.

Ravs: Thank you, we’ll be back shortly.

Daltos: How about never.

Ravs: It’s pretty quiet up here.

Daltos: Yeah, it is.

Ravs: Can you think of what we can get up to, with nobody around?

Daltos: I’m thinking that those cliffs would be the perfect place to dump a body.

Ravs: That wasn’t what I was thinking of.

Daltos: You still haven’t taken your arm off me.

Ravs: You haven’t pushed my arm off, even though you’ve had three chances to.

Ravs: Aw.

Daltos: There’s only four rooms here.

Ravs: It’s got everything! There’s a bed, kitchen, bathroom, and living room. I’m not looking for a fancy place, and I think that this place is it.

Daltos: What about all your booze?

Ravs: I’ll find a place for it. Maybe I’ll have a shed put in.

Daltos: Your booze’ll spoil if you keep it outside.

Ravs: I can always put a cellar in.

Daltos: Ravs, we’re on a cliff.

Ravs: Daltos, you overthink too much. Plus, I can always find work down at the resort. Always a call for a bartender at these sorts of places.

Daltos: No.

Ravs: It’s not that much of a walk either. Okay, why don’t you like this place?

Daltos: It’s...too nice out here. It’s weird. There’s got to be a catch.

Ravs: You’re not going to actually live with me, so I don’t know why you’re weirded out. You can always visit me?

Daltos: I could.

Ravs: Alright, if you’re not happy with this place, then I won’t take it.

Ravs: Hey! Sorry to keep you waiting.

Agent: Well, what’s the verdict?

Ravs: He doesn’t like it, I’m afraid. He’s a little too worried about our privacy and safety.

Agent: Ah yes, always a concern. These islands do have locals, though the locals do keep to themselves. Nothing that you two probably couldn’t handle, though.

Daltos: Told you there was a catch.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

If Vorago Solitude had been eerily quiet, Tycho’s Ribs is even quieter.

Who or what had built Tycho’s Rib had not been human; the angular, solid lines directed attention downwards. In the center of Tycho’s Ribs is a giant monolithic structure hovering in midair, rotating in place. Every few seconds, a crackling storm of purple lightning erupts from out of it, causing Rythian’s hair to stand on end.

No human word can aptly describe the sound accompanying the spectacle. The silence persists throughout the black and purple colored halls. Rythian and Teep’s footsteps don’t echo, muffled by the structures towering above them. At least Rythian doesn’t have to worry about air in here, debubbling his Oz kit.

Ignoring the masses of bodies in the hallways, Rythian and Teep make their way down through the lower levels, following the downwards spiralling path. The air in here’s tainted with a copper tang mixed in with dust. Rythian sneezes a few times before pulling his scarf up over his nose and mouth.

“Bless you,” Teep had mockingly signed, causing him to throw sand at them.

An alien lift (platforms vanishing upwards into the dark expanse of an orange lit field) baffles Rythian. Not that startled, Teep tosses in a rock fetched from nearby. With an ugly crunch, it’s pulverised when the lift meets the orange field preventing anything but the platform from going any higher.

Teep waits until there’s a gap between the platforms, lunging forwards to descend between them. Rythian teleports after them, preferring that safer option.

“I could have teleported you along, you know,” He mutters.

Teep shrugs once they’ve rolled back onto their feet. By the very last level, there’s a bright field of neon blue liquid. He thinks it’s the same stuff as what had run through Vorago’s Solitude. 

When Teep nudges a pebble in, it sinks. No resulting bubbles let them know what its ultimate fate is. That is, until it’s violently ejected with a burst of blue sparks, right back at Teep’s head. 

Rythian ducks. Teep just deflects the pebble with their arm, their shield rippling in the aftermath. The pebble bounces off the walls to land elsewhere.

> This place is as weird as fuck.

“Agreed,” Rythian mutters as the two of them continue to head deeper into the Vault. He’s not exactly nervous but not thrilled either, to be here at last.

Passing by Eridian electrical fields and conduits (purple storms of hurricanes spinning in self-contained towers) give him a mild headache. That’s not too much of an issue, so long as he doesn’t go sticking his head right into it. His eyesight does glitch a bit, frizzing lines until he’s clear.

At the end of the roundabout path, Rythian and Teep glance at each other. A platform hovers above a pit that contains nothing but darkness and stars.

Together, Rythian and Teep step onto it. It descends after a pause. Darkness engulfs him before bright, white light makes his eyes water like a flashbang’s exploded in his face. The lift brings them into a chamber.

“Eleseer,” Rythian mumbles. “The ruins talked of this place.”

Turning his eyes upwards grants him a view of the star filled ceiling, planets, stars and symbols whirling through the miniature model of the six galaxies. He can make out a few symbols like the one within his trinket. This is it, this is what he’d come here for, and he’s  _ right,  _ there’s other Vaults out there (on different  _ planets _ , even), but which is the one he’s looking for-

“Are we in the Vault yet?” Teep signs. They don’t seem to be as entranced with the place as he is. Rythian could almost describe them as being creeped out. “This thing isn’t going down fast enough.”

“I don’t think so,” Rythian answers. Movement above them alerts him that he and Teep aren’t alone anymore. “Incoming!”

Orbs patter against the lift’s flooring. Teep dives off the edge towards the platform beneath the lift, Rythian following suit. Teep fires a pistol at the white object following their course down. A direct hit sends it plummeting downwards. It hits the platform with a distinct splat, white limbs awkwardly splayed out.

Teep grabs Rythian by the scarf. Rythian teleports the both of them down. They hit the platform, Rythian’s roll not as graceful as Teep’s one. A few meters away lies the carcass of whatever had shot at them.

“That’s one way to make the lift go down faster,” Rythian sighs, checking parts of himself for damage. He’s fine, merely shaken. 

Not as worried about themself, Teep kicks the carcass over. Its doll-like head lolls, stumpy limbs that are its arms grasping at nothing. “What the fuck is this thing?”

He walks over, crouching to examine the corpse. “Hang on, this is a Guardian.”

“You talk like you’ve met them before.” Teep reloads their pistol.

“I have. They’re not very hospitable things.” Rythian leaves the corpse be, checking that his shotgun’s fully loaded. “There’s bound to be more.”

“Things?”

“They’re not alive, Teep.”

“Great, I can sleep better at night knowing that.”

“You don’t sleep.”

“Exactly.”

Rythian’s radar lights up in red. A rain of plasma orbs force the two to scatter, taking cover behind the scenery. Rythian ducks out, teleporting behind the Guardians wielding bladed staffs to fire directly in their spine and back.

For things that aren’t alive, the splatter their separated bodies make when hitting the floor is too realistic. Rythian pops back into his cover, panting and sweating. 

The movements of the Guardians on the ground are far too martial, forcing him to adopt a hit and run tactic. Twice he’s almost been cut and quartered, combat rolls saving him from being hit.

Teep’s holding their own, shooting the turrets guarding the entrances to the inner rooms, also dispatching the flying Guardians trying to sneak up on Rythian as well.

A staff wielding Guardian brings a blade down on Teep’s head; Teep catches the pole, bringing it around to cut off the Guardian’s leg. The Guardian backhands Teep with its clawed arm. Teep stabs the arm, disarming the Guardian and forcing the other end of the staff into the Guardian’s head. They turn to confront another Guardian, throwing the slain one off the platform.

Rythian forces himself to focus on covering Teep. While Teep’s engaged in one on one combat, the flying Guardians continue to shoot. He doesn’t know how much of a hit Teep’s shield can take, or how hard Guardians hit.

Best not to find out the hard way.

A force slams into Rythian from the side, winding him. He falls against the wall, breathing hard. His shield’s maintaining its charge by a fraction or so, flashing a warning. Whatever’s hit him’s speeding off into the air, leaving a fading purple jet trail behind.

A shot from his shotgun brings it down. Teep finds him holding his aching side. Teep’s covered in all manner of gore. Instead of red, it’s all purple and black, causing them to look like they’d been dunked in a can of expensive designer paint.

“I’m fine,” He states. Nothing’s broken, it just aches, a temporary soreness from a hard impact like he’s stuck a landing or been jokingly punched by Ravs.

“This thing hit you?” Teep points to the Guardian that’d rammed into Rythian.

“I think so?”

Teep crouches to lift it up. It’s the size of an infant, cocooned in patches of white and greying ‘flesh’, save for the shotgun sized hole through its obliterated middle. 

The porcelain face is remarkably too human for Rythian’s liking, serene despite how it died. Two black antennae emerge from both sides on the Guardian’s lower body.  Beneath its neck, two clawed, jointed limbs extend from the body.

Teep holds it out to Rythian as they would a newborn baby. The name of the Guardian’s type sinks into his brain, as with the other forms they’ve been fighting.

> Congratulations, it’s a boy.

Rythian snatches up the Putti’s body to lob it at the wall- the ‘skin’ is all smooth, almost like an actual infant’s. It leaks out purple flesh and matter as it slides down to sink onto the floor, rather forlornly.

> You’re not a very good daddy. 

“Don’t you ever call me ‘daddy’ ever again,” Rythian flatly says, watching Teep have a silent bout of laughter as they step through the doorway ahead of them. They stop, their head tilting back. “Teep?”

> I found mommy.

In all the times that Rythian’s ever seen Teep fight or spar, he’s never seen them stab an enemy (save for Ravs) that fast, the blue of their knife flashing. The blade gets wedged all the way to the hilt.

Teep rips it out, flinging blood everywhere. They leap back, reaching for a pistol to open fire on the rounded Guardian taking up the whole doorway. Bullets bounce off the Guardian’s shield.

The Guardian’s height is at least double that of Rythian’s. If he had to describe the Guardian’s appearance, it’d be if a headdress wearing spiderant began to walk on its rear legs, limbs stretched out to humanoid proportions and dipped it in white clay to be moulded along its fleshy curves and dips.

The rounded Guardian extends a hand. Teep and Rythian dive for cover, expecting a round of incoming plasma bursts. 

Tottering on two spindly bowed legs, the Guardian plunges the hand inside of its swollen belly to extract more of the wriggling, smaller, cocoon-like Guardians, the white and purple folds of flesh parting. Putti’s faces (permanently stuck in a silent scream) peer out at him before the folds close over.

The pint-sized Puttis home in on Rythian. He’s too busy processing  _ what the fuck he’s just seen  _ to teleport. A bullet’s fired at him. The familiar sound triggers an automatic teleporting reflex. He ends up crouched in the spot next to Teep, scarf pulled down to his neck so he can gulp air.

Teep’s sharpshooting each Guardian out of the air before they can home in, one careful shot at a time. There’s less of a murderous intent behind the shots. When he looks over, Teep’s reloading with less speed than usual.

“Are you freaking out?” Rythian asks. He silently thanks Teep for shooting at him to snap him out of his horror.

> Maybe a little.

“You’re not the only one.” Rythian copies them, reloading. 

The Opha’s lost track of them, elegant neck craning this way and that. It knows that the two of them are still nearby. A cluster of Puttis take flight, clicking and whirring like a bizarre swarm of bean-shaped insects.

> I’m about to run out of ammo.

“Take mine,” Rythian offers. He doesn’t use his pistol ammo, favoring rifles and shotguns. 

They could use Ravs right now for his ability to take on close-range enemies. Well, Ravs might not punch an Opha, or he might suplex it so fast off the platform before Rythian can say ‘fuck these aliens constructs’.

“Keep it, I got a better idea.” Teep pulls out their knife, holding it like they would a throwing one. They pull their arm back, leaving cover. Their arm snaps forward, the blade windmilling through the air towards the Guardian.

It lodges in the Guardian’s forehead, fluid beading at the wound. The Guardian staggers, hands reaching for the knife in its head. Teep shoots it in the belly, taking it out before turning the gun on the Puttis homing in on them.

The threats dealt with, Teep retrieves their knife without a word, following Rythian inside the inner rooms. 

A slope inside brings them on top of the inner rooms, where a charged crystal (the size of the monolithic structure back in Tycho’s Ribs) awaits. It takes Rythian a moment to work out what it wants from the nearby panel.

Rythian offers moonstones gathered from the corpses of the slain Guardians. The crystal glows red like a setting sun. The enormous crack running down the centre spreading from within, glows a soft pink and purple. It’s almost inviting. The light from the crystal expands towards the two.

“See you inside,” He says to Teep as the light engulfs them both.

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Agent: Place number four!

Ravs: I didn’t realize you had access to Helios!

Daltos: How did we get here using the Fast Travel-

Ravs: Shh, let the nice agent talk.

Agent: It’s under construction at the moment, but people are putting in bookings for an apartment here!

Agent: It’s projected to be completed within the next two months, so we’re running out of placements fast! Fortunately, I’ve got a great deal set up for you two.

Agent: I’ll just float over here. Feel free to poke around your home of the future, all sponsored by Hyperion! There’s room for a whole family!

Ravs: Great!

Daltos: There’s no gravity.

Ravs: I can think of plenty of ways to use that to our advantage.

Daltos: This place is way too fancy.

Ravs: Check out the view of Pandora! I wouldn’t mind waking up to that when you’re not around.

Daltos: It’s pretty ‘eh’. Hera looks way better.

Ravs: Hera ain’t got shit on Dionysus.

Daltos: Are we really going to argue about whose homeworld’s better looking?

Ravs: I know what’s no argument: you’re far better-looking.

Daltos: ...Complimenting your way into my pants isn’t going to work.

Ravs: It worked the first time, didn’t it?

Daltos: Ravs, it didn’t work the first time, or the seventeenth time.

Ravs: And now here we are, househunting together.

Daltos: You’re the one househunting, I’m just here for the free Fast Travel codes.

Ravs: Sure, sure.

Daltos: Wipe that soppy look off your face or I’ll do it for you with my SMG.

Ravs: I’d like that, especially if it’s with ‘that gun’ of yours.

Daltos: I’m getting you a flirting jar. Every single time you flirt with me, you get fined a dollar.

Ravs: You can’t steal a jar from the kitchen. That’s display only!

Daltos: It’s going to serve a greater, nobler purpose. They have other jars they can use for their fancyass condiments or whatever rich people eat.

Ravs: Well, it is a Hyperion jar. It’s probably indestructible. Need a hand opening it?

Daltos: ...Yes.

Ravs: You should wear gloves less often.

Daltos: But then what I will keep you around for?

Ravs: Mindblowing sex.

Daltos: Definitely not.

Ravs: My charm?

Daltos: A barbless skag’s got more charm. And less slobber.

Ravs: Aw, but you like it when I slobber all over you.

Daltos: If this is what being domestic with you is like, I’m not sure if I can handle it.

Ravs: I think you ‘handle’ me pretty well. Alright, fair enough, that one counts.

Daltos: The jar’s existed for  _ less _ than five minutes.

Ravs: Well, we’re a dollar closer to vacation.

Daltos: What vacation?

Ravs: I’d use all that money to buy us vacation. That jar’s a win-win.

Daltos: Or, you can buy yourself a ticket far away from me.

Ravs: I’ll think of you.

Daltos: How about you don’t?

Ravs: Look at this HD ECHOset. We couldn’t get this sort of reception back on Pandora. All these channels have something happening on them!

Daltos: I wouldn’t live here, even if this place had nine thousand channels to offer.

Ravs: I want to check out the bedroom.

Daltos: Of course you’d want to check out the bedroom.

Ravs: Well, the bedroom’s where we spend the most time together.

Daltos: Jar. Don’t flatter yourself, I spend more time in my frigate’s meeting room than in here.

Ravs: The bathroom’s nothing to sneeze at.

Daltos: What unfortunate surprises is it hiding?

Ravs: Constant hot water! I miss having hot water.

Daltos: Me too.

Ravs: Shower’s big enough for two- hey, don’t you lock me in here.

Daltos: Dammit. Jar.

Ravs: Hmph, I’m going to run out of change at this rate. So, I’m definitely on board with the bathroom. What’s the hell this thing though? It’s welded to the wall.

Daltos: I think it’s a dead Claptrap that’s wall mounted.

Ravs: I haven’t seen one of those since they all went kaput back on Pandora.

Daltos: I’m not sleeping in here if one of those is watching.

Ravs: It’s dead, there’s no way it can possibly be-

Wall-Trap: HELLO NEW TENANTS! WELCOME TO HELIOS! IF THIS IS YOUR FIRST TIME IN THE BEDROOM, I AM HERE TO OFFER YOU HELP IN THE FOLLOWING AREAS: RELAXATION, SLEEP, PROCREATION-

Daltos: Fucking shut up-

Ravs: -is too busy laughing to be coherent-

Wall-Trap: ****ING, EH? I CAN HELP YOU BY PROVIDING A MANDATORY SAFETY TALK BEFORE WE GET STRAIGHT TO BUSINESS-

Daltos: It censored itself.

Ravs: -still too busy laughing to be coherent-

Wall-Trap: PLEASE MAKE SURE THAT ALL PARTIES ARE COMFORTABLE ON THE BED! THERE ARE HOLOGRAPHIC GUIDELINES TO HELP YOU IF YOU REQUIRE VISUAL ASSISTANCE, AND FOLLOW THE BEEPING IF YOU CAN’T SEE THE GUIDELINES.

Daltos: Ravs, what the fuck are you doing?

Wall-Trap: CLOSER. A LITTLE TO THE LEFT. DING DING, YOU DID IT! YOU ARE ONE STEP CLOSER TO SEXYTIMES!

Ravs: This bed is the softest bed I’ve ever been in.

Daltos: We haven’t done anything-

Ravs: Sssh, I want to see what happens. Ready!

Wall-Trap: EXCELLENT! PLEASE PICK ONE OF THE HYPERION APPROVED FOREPLAY POSITIONS TO ASSUME-

Daltos: I’m leaving.

Ravs: Oh come on, humor the robot-

Daltos: I’ll shoot the robot.

Agent: Well?

Ravs: Definitely not for us, but I want to know if I can take the Wall-Trap home.

Daltos: I want a divorce.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

With the Sentinel taken care of, Rythian’s examining the room that belonged to it. This isn’t a normal space he’s standing in. It’s a pocket dimension of sorts, used to contain what this Vault had previously held until it could be reclaimed. The texts spoke of Sirens being the keys to some of the riskier Vaults. It also didn’t say that normal humans could try claiming Vaults at their own risk.

Besides, it’s not like that there’s a Siren around that Rythian can ask to help him out. He finds what he’s looking for all the way at the edge of the room where the barrier thins to a crude line.

It’s a fragment of the Vault artifact that the Sentinel had been protecting. From its shattered edges, some incredible force had come into contact with it and left it beyond repair.

A mere fragment is more than what Rythian had ever hoped to find.

He picks it up, using his fingernail to separate it from the floor. The instant his fingers form a loose cage, Rythian’s mind folds into the fragment (or the fragment folds into  _ him _ ).

Later, he’ll explain to Teep that his mind’s been peeled open to the infinite possibilities that the future holds, and that the fragment guided him down the likeliest one.

Teep turns. The fight with the Sentinel had satisfactorily passed the time; Teep wouldn’t consider it as being one of their more engaging encounters, even if an alien guardian with a billion alternate’s involved. 

Far from the archway, Rythian’s standing still, staring at the object on his palm.

Up close, his blue eyes are focused on the metal shard, with an intensity that Teep’s seen reserved for ruins. He blinks when Teep elbows him. It’d better not be putting Rythian into one of those Guardians or Teep’s going to set the fragment on fire.

“Oh, Teep.” He sounds ponderous, voice creaking like he’s trying to remember how to form words and use them.

> You’ve been making googly eyes at that thing in your hand for five minutes now.

“Has it been five minutes?” Rythian rubs at his forehead. “It didn’t feel like it.”

“Ditch it, and let’s go.” Teep turns towards the exit. Rythian reaches out, grabbing their arm.

“Hang on, I want to know if you’ll see the same thing as me.”

“Fine, but hurry up.”

He drops the fragment onto Teep’s waiting palm. Their fingers automatically close over it. There’s no way of actually telling if it’s having an effect on them. All Rythian knows is that Teep is silent, for less than a minute. They pass the fragment back to him.

“What’d you see?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.” Teep’s striding off towards the archway before Rythian can question them about their vision. 

Trying not to let his annoyance get the best of him, Rythian follows, emerging from the crystal and back into Eleseer.

At the very edge of the platform, the fragment drops from his hand, down into nothingness. Nobody should have that kind of foreseeable power at their disposal, especially not someone like him.

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Agent: Don’t look down, but we do have an unusual contender!

Ravs: What is it?

Agent: A treehouse!

Ravs: Treehouse, as in, a house on top of a tree, right?

Agent: That’s right! I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes to fetch some paperwork, but do explore to your heart’s content! And definitely do mind your step, the wooden floor’s a bit loose in places. 

Ravs: Daltos, where are you?

Daltos: Here, why- don’t you dare break my fucking arm.

Ravs: I won’t break your arm so long as you don’t leave me here.

Daltos: It’s only three steps to the front door.

Ravs: That’s three steps until certain doom.

Daltos: One. Two. Three. There, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?

Ravs: It was fucking horrible.

Daltos: This place is actually quite nice.

Ravs: I hate it.

Daltos: Is it because it’s a thousand metres off the ground?

Ravs: Who’d want to live in a place like this?

Daltos: I do.

Ravs: Seriously?

Daltos: Provided I don’t smoke.

Ravs: Oh no, no, we’re getting out of here.

Daltos: You haven’t even taken a look around!

Ravs: I don’t need to, because this place ain’t it.

Daltos: You’re passing up the opportunity of a lifetime here!

Ravs: I don’t care! You can buy it, but I’m not.

Daltos: Maybe it’ll be good for you to fight your fear by facing it everyday!

Ravs: I’m pretty sure that’ll just end up killing me!

Daltos: Look at me. You’re not dead and you’re standing a thousand metres up in the air.

Ravs: It’s kind of hard to argue with that logic.

Daltos: Fine, you don’t have to buy this place if you don’t want to. Keep being scared.

Ravs: I’m not scared! I just don’t like heights, that’s all.

Daltos: The fact that you’re still hanging onto my arm since we walked in here fucking tells me that you are.

Ravs: I don’t get on your case about smoking.

Daltos: That’s irrelevant.

Ravs: You’re just scared that you’ll end up killing the rest of your lieutenants if you stop smoking.

Daltos: ...Say that again.

Ravs: ...I said, you’re just scared that you’ll end up killing the rest of your lieutenants if you stop smoking.

Daltos: Get the fuck off me.

Ravs: Me being scared of heights is like that.

Daltos: No, it fucking isn’t.

Ravs: It is!

Daltos: No, it isn’t!

Ravs: I’m scared that if I fall, I’ll die!

Daltos: You’re not going to die!

Ravs: You don’t get it!

Daltos: Everybody dies in the end!

Ravs: Fuck, no, that’s not it-

Daltos: Oh, it fucking is.

Agent: I-is everything okay? I heard yelling.

Daltos: Everything’s fine.

Ravs: Yeah, fine. It must have been some wind you just heard, that’s all.

Agent: So, will you be taking this place?

Ravs: Sadly, no. It’s a bit too drafty up here.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

Teep brings the Stingray to a stop besides the jump pad. A poke around the Triton Flats revealed a number of secrets to the frostbitten, lifeless landscape. 

One, there’s a well-concealed jump pad pointing right at Concordia. A quick mental calculation tells Teep that the landing area is located within the back streets of Concordia. The dome itself isn’t a problem since people can pass through it without issue.

Sorry Zylus, Minty can go fuck herself.

Teep drives the Stingray into the jump pad. The initial boost clears the walls of the city. As the Stingray begins to descend with its engines whirring at maximum speed, Teep leaps off the seat. Sensing that it’s no longer occupied, the Stingray despawns before it can hit the ground.

Dangling with both hands gripping the edge of the building, Teep hauls themself up. There’d been a tense moment where they thought that they wouldn’t make it. Someone clapping next to them causes Teep to drop into a stance.

“I’ve never seen anybody use a Stingray on a jump pad before, but bravo, that was quite the show,” Minty drawls. She extinguishes her cigarette under her boot before stepping closer to Teep. “Too bad I know people who sneak in here all the time using that pad.”

“You going to arrest me?” Teep signs at her, straightening up. 

If they got a decent running start, they could clear the wall again and be out of her reach altogether. If that happens, it’ll fall to Rythian to get the supplies. Well, Rythian’s too occupied with scouring the walls for details of other Vaults. They’ll just have to deal if they don’t want to let him down.

“Naw, keeping you around on a leash’s much more fun,” Minty says, evidently smug about pinning them down. “So, what’re you doing now that you’re here? Killing someone?”

“Kinky. I’m going shopping,” Teep informs her, stepping past her to take the stairs.

“Shoplifting, you mean,” Minty sarcastically says, her footsteps telling Teep that she’s not going to be that easy to lose. She’s just as infuriating as Panda- Teep shakes their head.

“I’m going to actually pay for the stuff,” They sign.

Minty responds with a disbelieving huff. Teep deliberately sticks to the main path leading down into the city’s depths.

Down here, the air adopts a recycled, stale albeit breathable scent that’d have bothered hypochondriacs for hours on end. It’s not that noticeable in the plaza. Here, the space becomes boxed in, pressing in to elicit a claustrophobic feeling. 

Teep almost feels ‘home’, slinking through ratty alleys in chase of an elusive noodle stand reputed to be the best one in this quadrant of the galaxy.

“Hey, where’re you going?” Minty eventually calls out. She sounds bored, already demanding answers.

“Finding a place that’s not on the map,” Teep signs. 

Over their shoulder, a neon sign for an adult shop and a massage parlor flick through the various sales. The sign in the adult shop’s curtained windowed reads ‘Come in to learn how to read, cook, iron, fix your modules, or how to adult! For sex related inquiries, please head to the massage place next door.’. 

Between the two buildings is an alleyway that Ravs could barely squeeze into. This is what Teep steps into, facing a wall. When Minty adjusts her vision, there’s a door painted the exact same color as the grimy, metal walls.

Teep lifts a hand and knocks once, stepping aside so that Minty’s in full view. She frowns. The knock echoes in the alleyway. A slot in the door’s tugged back- Pyrionflax’s eyes widen to a comical size.

“How did you  _ find _ me?” They moan, replacing the slot so that their eyes are gone.

“Pyrion! You haven’t reported for surveillance duty in a week!” Minty bellows, kicking the door down before the first bolt can slide into place. Exposed, Pyrionflax scuttles backwards away from the busted door.

They shrink against the wall, head bobbing like a polished cue ball underneath a bar’s neon white lighting. “I didn’t mean anything by it! I just forgot, that’s all!”

“You trying to piss me off?” Minty advances on him, spurs clicking on the broken metal. Her heel crunches on glass, her jacket billowing behind her to form an intimidating shadow.

“Who told you I was down here?” Pyrionflax whines.

“They did-” Minty turns, noticing that Teep’s no longer watching her bully Pyrionflax into pulling their weight around these parts. “Stay here if you know what’s good for you!” She growls. Pyrionflax whimpers like a kicked puppy, nodding.

Teep is outside, leaning against the wall. “You done?” They push off the wall to enter before Minty can interrogate them.

Upon seeing their lanky frame, Pyrionflax shrieks, scrabbling against the wall like they’ll scuttle up it. ”Arrest them!”

“You know each other?” Minty raises an eyebrow. Here’s someone who can terrify Pyrionflax more than her. She doesn’t meet those kinds of people everyday.

“They’re a killer! Help, protect me, you’re the sheriff!” Pyrionflax bawls. If they got any more terrified, they’re going to need a new change of pants.

She does have an obligation to her citizens (including somebody whom she wouldn’t mind putting a few new holes into), she supposes. “You hurt Pyrion, you answer to me,” She crisply says to Teep.

> I won’t need to, if Flax cooperates.

“DON’T SHOOT- what do you want?” Pyrionflax drops shaking hands covering their head, wide eyes peering at Teep over the top of their askew, duct-taped glasses. Their nose piercing glints as their glistening face wrinkles in a frown.

> I need to buy some skag jerky, and for some mysterious reason, this entire place doesn’t stock it, even though I saw Zylus unload five boxes worth.

Pyrionflax splutters with the elegance of a bloated, overfed skag. “How’d you know I took all of it?”

“You’re the only person in chat who sings praises about the stuff,” Teep responds. “Also, your last ‘known’ location wasn’t too far from Pandora. It’s not like you to leave a trail as big as that, not unless you wanted ‘someone’ to follow.” They mimes air quotes with their fingers to indicate sarcasm.

“Wait, wait, what chat are talking about here?” Pyrionflax stares at Minty, swinging their startled gaze back over Teep. “And that trail wasn’t meant for you, it was meant for- I’m saying too much.” They snap their mouth shut, working their jaw furiously for a rebuttal of sorts. “My lips are sealed! Begone, we have no further business!”

“Wrong.” Teep fishes out their ECHO device, flicking the screen on and showing it to Pyrionflax. Minty doesn’t see what they show, the screen deliberately angled away from her.

Pyrionflax’s jaw drops. They point to the ECHO device with a finger. The finger shakes as it points to Teep. Teep reaches up to break it. Pyrionflax withdraws their finger in time.

“ _ Green _ ?” Pyrionflax lets out a terrified whimper.

“Sup,” Teep signs, stowing the device away safely. “Nice to finally meet you, you fucker.”

“It wasn’t me who gave away your last job’s location to John! I didn’t even know you were Teep, Green, whatever! Someone had to do  _ something _ about you!” Cats could compete with the yowling happening in this hall.

Teep leans over Pyrionflax, picking Pyrionflax up by the hood so that they’re staring into their reflection on Teep’s goggles.

> All in the past.

“ _ What _ ?” Pyrionflax flatly says. The hand holding their hood releases them, allowing them to gracefully slide back down the wall.

> Or, if you feel that as my good friend that if you can’t make it up to me with a year’s worth of jerky, a couple of free favors might do the trick.

“FiZone’s wrong! You’re worse in person!”

“If you were expecting me to be a bright ray of sunshine like FiZone, then boo-hoo,” Teep signs. “So, jerky or favors?” They tuck away the ECHO device, dropping into a crouch. 

“That’s extortion!”

“Not if you do it of your own free will.” In the blink of an eye, their free hand’s pinching Pyrionflax’s nose piercing. Minty discretely tugs at her shirt collar.

“Leave the piercing alone!” Pyrionflax’s voice slips into a nasal whine that’s still scared shitless. “That cost fifty dollars to put in! And I don’t do free favors!”

> Alright, then this comes out really  _ painfully _ .

> Trust me on that one.

“Teep, that’s technically hurting Pyrion,” Minty warns.

> I haven’t pulled it out.

> Yet.

“The favors, that’s easier to do!” Pyrionflax squeaks, dropping their head into their hands.

“I’ll be in touch,” Teep signs, letting go. They rise, stepping back over the broken door. Minty follows them without checking on Pyrionflax. “I kept my word, I didn’t hurt Flax.”

“You definitely didn’t hurt them,” Minty acknowledges, lighting a cigarette as she strides after Teep. Fuck Teep for having longer legs. “And you found them for me, even if I’d have done it sooner or later.”

“You’re welcome.”

“If that’s your definition of ‘shopping’, I’d hate you see you during sales.”

“I’m just getting started.” Teep turns to her. “Any chance of finding a black market around here?”

“You’re asking me, a sheriff, where the black market is.” Minty blows a cloud of smoke in front of her, trying to decide if Teep is being serious. “And why would I tell you?”

“Because no vending machine or licensed vendor stock Atlas parts anymore.”

“Your taste’s wide-ranging, I see.” Minty smirks. “Once a Dahl, always Dahl, even after you’ve left. Personally, that’s a bunch of bullshit.”

“Was my face that gave it away?”

“Just how you held yourself back there, on the roof. That’s not something they teach to regular Dahl mooks.”

“You sure know a lot for a former desk jockey-” Minty’s hand is gripping their jacket, shoving them against the wall. A heater unit blows air over the two of them, rattling unhappily like there’s metal balls bouncing inside of it.

For someone way shorter than them, her grip could have given all juice producing fruits nightmares. Teep coolly regards her, even when there’s a gun pressing against their heart.

“If you don’t mind, it’s  _ sheriff  _ to you.” Minty chuckles. The lit end of her cigarette wisps smoke. “Okay, my turn. What gave it away?”

> Your jacket’s missing all its patches and a hood.

> It’s the same jacket as mine, just a couple sizes smaller.

> And this.

With a hand, Teep reaches up to their face, tapping the hypothetical space above their left eyebrow. It highlights the lack of metal welded into her own head.

“Didn’t want to be permanently marked for life. It was optional, for us pencil pushers,” Minty concedes. “Hey, mind the knife, will you? This shirt’s new.”

> Take your gun off me first.

The pistol’s removed from their chest. Teep tucks away the knife that they’d been holding against her midriff. The glowing edge had nearly shredded the fabric of her shirt.

“I should have confiscated your shield and shot you,” Minty laments a few minutes later. “Nobody would have known or cared.”

“Don’t make Zylus cry.”

“True, and it’s hard to find good pilots these days.” Minty stops in front of the emporium. “You’ll find your parts in here.”

“Ah, so you do know where the black market is.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t hear it from me,” Minty scowls, wondering if she can’t just handcuff Teep to a radiator and leave them there until Rythian arrives to pick them up.

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Agent: I’m very glad to tell you that there’s no absolute shortage of places for the happily married to settle-

Daltos: Alright, look, we’re not happily ma- Ravs, put me down!

Ravs: Chill, I got you, your’s leg hurting again.

Daltos: Being kicked on the shin by my lieutenant’s steel capped and pointy boot isn’t going to keep me down.

Ravs: Not if you keep getting up again.

Agent: Haha, I got that! These days, there’s no passion to any of it! That’s marketing for you. Anyway, our inner city place’s got soundproof walls if you two need to peacefully work things out-

Daltos: Don’t give him any shitty ideas-

Ravs: I think that’s a fantastic idea! Would you like to join-

Agent: No, no, I couldn’t possibly intrude-

Ravs: Then I’ll be ‘seeing’ you later.

Agent: O- of course.

Ravs: Easy does it, over the doorstep, and please get that lighter away from my eye. I rather like my eyebrows as they are.

Daltos: Then put me  _ down _ , you idiot.

Ravs: What a place. There’s so much space in here!

Daltos: Needs more blood on the walls.

Ravs: No it doesn’t.

Daltos: It’ll match the wallpaper.

Ravs: Only if the wallpaper’s mauve.

Daltos: What the fuck is mauve?

Ravs: Really? You don’t know what mauve is?

Daltos: Shut up, I didn’t become a Bandit Lord just to find out what mauve is.

Ravs: Which reminds me. Are you  _ still _ mad about me killing your lieutenant?

Daltos: Yeah, I am.

Ravs: We’ve been over this, the guy was an asshole.

Daltos: You should have let  _ me _ kill him.

Ravs: Bullshit, you were going to stick him in the brig and let him rot for a few months just to break him in.

Daltos: I could have used him for a distant outpost! Because of you, I need to find another lieutenant!

Ravs: You have plenty of lieutenants!

Daltos: Lieutenants don’t grow on trees.

Ravs: Well, people usually don’t grow on trees, that’s fruit you’re thinking of.

Daltos: Urgh, don’t play stupid with me.

Ravs: I’m not playing stupid. You’re the one who’s getting all bothered over something so small.

Daltos: Point is, you don’t kill my lieutenants. That’s  _ my _ job.

Ravs: Let’s put it this way: I’m killing them for you.

Daltos: No, you’re not. You’re doing it because you like to feel all macho. You  _ miss _ that arena of yours, and being in a good fight.

Ravs: That’s a shitty accusation to make, especially since that guy was all set to backstab you at dinner.

Daltos: I knew he was going to backstab me, but I could have used that against him.

Ravs: Why do you care so much about a guy who was going to betray you?

Daltos: Yeah he was, but he was one of  _ mine. _

Ravs: Oh, is  _ that _ what that is? You’re mad at  _ me _ , for  _ killing _ a guy who was going to to  _ kill _ you-

Daltos: Ravs, I’m upset because you killed a guy who was one of  _ mine _ . His buddies are mad. I got to do something to shut them up too. Do you get it now?

Ravs: You should have said something!

Daltos: I was going to, before you took shit into your own hands!

Ravs: Daltos, the solution is easy, just kill his buddies. That’ll shut them up.

Daltos: No, that’ll just make things worse!

Ravs: That’s not how you show how you’re in charge!

Daltos: That’s how you ran your gang.  _ This _ is how I run my gang, so stay the fuck out of it.

Ravs: And this is why we’re never getting married.

Daltos: ...Did you- oh, that’s just  _ gold.  _ I’m not sharing squat, especially my gang with you if you go treating them like they’re all fodder.

Ravs: I didn’t want to share your gang anyway, especially if you keep stocking them full of backstabbing pricks.

Daltos: It makes me wonder why the fuck I’m still seeing you.

Ravs: You know why? Because you’re  _ lonely _ .

Daltos: Now, that, is the finest bullshit I’ve ever heard coming out of your mouth. You’re lonely too.

Ravs: It’s the right bullshit, judging by the look on your face.

Daltos: And you’re still the savage, bloodthirsty bandit who still won’t listen to  _ anyone.  _ You might act friendly, but you definitely earned that bounty of yours. Vault Hunting’s not going to change that.

Ravs: Bit rich coming from a  _ bandit _ who let a town to die last week by blocking off all water reserves to it.

Daltos: Town tried to poison the water hooked up to my frigate.

Ravs: Let’s agree to disagree. I won’t kill your folks if you run your shit properly.

Daltos: I would be, if  _ someone  _ didn’t go slaughtering my lieutenants at the first sign of backstabbing.

Ravs: You done being mad?

Daltos: I’m still a little mad.

Ravs: That’s better than being really mad.

Daltos: Hmph. At least we got through the tour faster that way.

Ravs: I don’t like fighting with you like this.

Daltos: I don’t either. I do enough fighting with everybody else as it is.

Ravs: Hey, dinner’s on me.

Daltos: Are you trying to apologise by buying me dinner?

Ravs: Maybe.

Daltos: By the way, we’re banned from that last place we went to a couple of weeks ago.

Ravs: Aw, really? We behaved! I left them a large tip too.

Daltos: Apparently, they don’t like me so much now after that town died.

Ravs: Well, I know a place that does take-out up north. We can bring something back for Arsenal too.

Daltos: Can we burn the place down on the way up there?

Ravs: No.

Daltos: Fuck you.

Ravs: Maybe after take-out, and if you don’t smoke- do you carry that jar around everywhere with you?

Daltos: Only if I know I’m going to be seeing you.

Ravs: Put the jar away.

Daltos: Jar.

Ravs: I don’t have a dollar on me-

Daltos: Jar.

Ravs:  _ Bills- _ I meant to say all I got is bills.

Daltos: -is laughing too hard to be coherent-

Ravs: Why are you laughing?

Daltos:  _ Jar Jar Bills _ . 

Ravs: -is laughing too hard to be coherent-

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

The secret entrance/exit behind the bookcase allows Minty to enter her own office without taking the lift. As convenient as the lift is, it takes a day and a half (or so it feels like it to her) to get to its destination. The bookcase stairs are quicker, with the advantage of allowing her to come and go as she pleases.

It also allows her to sneak back in after she’s lied to Hollie about not pulling an all-nighter. In this case, it lets her race back to her office without running into the people she’s avoiding. 

Minty closes the entrance after her, slipping out of her duster coat. It’s thrown onto a shapely metal stand. It’d been an artistic sculpture made entirely out of cheap guns. She’d deemed it hideous enough to claim it as her own. Well, it if’s going to rust somewhere, it might as well do it in her office and be useful at the same time. Her hat spins on the top of the stand.

A surreptitious check of the bathroom mirror tells her that she doesn’t look out of breath. Satisfied, Minty takes a seat and waits for the foretold company to arrive.

This is the fifth time that Teep’s arriving in Concordia. Bluari’s in charge of escorting them to her sheriff’s office. Nobody uses the word ‘meriff’ around Minty. Using the word incurred a steep penalty. It involves footing the bill for her office door if she happens to have ‘Law’ on her at the time (which is always).

Minty’s expecting Bluari to turn up as a blubbering mess. For a customs (doubling as security) officer, Bluari’s in touch with their emotions.

Emotions are critical to a sheriff’s modus operandi. It’s the difference between shooting someone because she’s a petty fucker, or letting them walk free and then shooting them because she changed her mind at the last second. She’d considered making Bluari her successor. Trouble is, Bluari’s attuned to their own emotional states, ridiculously so.

Last time she’d called them into her office, they’d been upset over damaging their harmonica. A pint sized dent’s hardly worth tears. Still, Bluari had acted like they’d just lost their pet. Sighing, Minty had secretly paid Pyrionflax to buy an identical one and gift it to Bluari. The moment had also been worthy of the waterworks.

This time she’s prepared. Two boxes of tissues await their calling under her desk. She’s sick of losing handkerchiefs to Bluari (who washed the damned things twice before returning them, always smelling of a floral soap that Minty thinks is nice, but she’s not having any of that fancy schmancy shit in her wardrobe, ever).

The buzzer blares a notice. “Minty, I’m here.” Bluari’s voice pushes through the speaker. They don’t sound emotional.

She takes a moment to prepare herself, mentally and physically (because Hollie’s warning about blood pressure’s still sticks). “Is Teep with you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m opening the door.” Minty presses the button to let the doors open. It also disables the hidden electric fields, just in case anybody ever tried to storm her office. Bluari sticks their head in.

Minty’s gaze homes in on their face.

Bluari doesn't look like they’re about to burst into tears. They’re beaming. While not a cause for concern, Bluari’s typically fretting about this or that. That’s not exactly sheriff stuff but anyone could toughen up, with enough time and experience. 

She’s not sure what it’ll take for Bluari to reach the benchmark level: being able to shoot a gun without flinching or dropping the gun at the sound. 

Even Hollie could still do that, and Hollie’s been out of the bandit game for a few years now. At this rate, Minty’ll go back to her original idea of making Hollie her successor instead. 

Problem: Hollie isn’t dense, she just probably thinks Minty’s being nice in hinting that she’d be a better sheriff than Bluari.

Problem number two: It’d been Hollie who’d suggested that Bluari should be the next sheriff.

Problem number three: She can’t hurt Hollie’s feelings, even if it’s clear that Bluari couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag even when armed with a machete.

Problem number four: How does one break that kind of news to the cheeriest person in Concordia without making their name mud with everyone?

Tapping a pen, Minty watches Teep step in through the doorway after Bluari. She didn’t have time to turn on the field that quickly, so Teep gets to experience a visit without finding out that the electric fields existed.

“Minty, you’ll never guess what I can do now!” Bluari exclaims.

“Alright, what?” Sure, she’ll humor them.

Bluari draws a Jakobs pistol. Minty’s got her own out before she can help herself, Law primed to fire. Teep tilts their head, considering the scene. 

Incredibly, Bluari doesn’t notice, rotating the gun in their hands until it’s dangling by the trigger on a finger.

Before they can spot her, Minty returns the pistol to its holster. Teep’s spotted her draw. Fuck. There goes her special surprise. Well, she’s got other tricks up her sleeve. Her office chair creaks as she settles on it again, appearing nonchalant like she’d meant to do that all along. Hopefully it’ll even intimidate Teep.

Frowning in concentration, Bluari begins to spin the pistol in one hand. As the pistol gathers speed, Bluari’s face gives way to another smile.

“Look, look, I did it at last!” They crow, the pistol turning fast circles. “Watch!” The pistol snaps upright in their hand. They pretend to blow smoke away from the barrel, stowing the pistol in their inventory. “What do you think?”

“Pretty good, though I’d work on spinning it faster at the beginning so you don’t drop it,” Minty critiques. “Who taught you?”

“Teep did!”

“Teep?” Forgive her if she sounds skeptical, but Teep doesn’t really seem to be the sort of person who voluntarily sat down and offered to teach someone (let alone someone like Bluari) a fancy trick.

“Yeah! They taught me in the lift!”

She can’t destroy the excitement Bluari’s experiencing, just to be petty with someone else. “You can practice while you’re watching the cameras, you have my permission.”

“I certainly will! Just wait until Pyrion sees…” Bluari drifts out of the room. The door whizzes shut behind them, leaving Minty and Teep all alone.

“Fifth time’s the charm.” Minty leans back in her chair, steepling her hands on her lap. It takes a bit of stealthy rearranging under the desk so that her boot spurs don’t gouge a hole in the carpet (again). “You can’t keep sneaking into Concordia.”

“I’m helping you rediscover parts of Concordia that you might not have thought to secure.”

“Teep, I know every inch of this place. If you think you’ve found another way in, I already know about it.” Minty lets her voice go as dry as possible.

“I walked in through the gate today. Apparently you weren’t expecting that.” Right, Teep had seen her on the upper balcony with binoculars. Time to play it cool.

“I expect plenty of things in my town,” Minty coolly states. “Like for you to wear this tracker from hereon.”

“No.” Teep signs, exaggerating the motion.

“If you keep trying to give me the slip, then I have no choice but to put one on you.”

Plus, she’s curious about where Teep and Rythian are staying; they definitely haven’t used the Fast Travel Network, not even once. It’s like they both prefer to take the hour long trip to and from Concordia to renew supplies.

Minty pulls out the device, laying it out on the desk for Teep to examine. 

It’s a slim, weightless black bracelet, designed to be unobtrusive. It’d been one of her more unusual finds in Pyrionflax’s ever-growing hoard of tech and junk. Provided she wouldn’t make them wear it, Pyrionflax had fixed it and given it to her free of charge.

“I agreed to be followed, not tracked,” Teep argues, clearly agitated.

“They’re both similar enough.” Minty smirks. If she can’t follow them in person, then perhaps she can do so another way. This’ll save her a lot of potential trouble. “All you have to do is wear it while you’re inside Concordia. That part still stands.” The bracelet’s not that removable by way of a biosignature on someone’s skin. She has the only physical key, and it’s in her lockbox, back at her apartment.

“Nope.”

“Then you starve.” Minty leans back, watching Teep pick up the bracelet to examine it. “I bar you from Concordia. Rythian can come and go whenever as he wants, I got no problem with him.”

Posing no further argument, Teep slips the bracelet on over their hand, letting it slide over their jacket sleeve. It begins to shrink, matching their wrist’s circumference. The tiny red light begins to blink, indicating that it’s awake and broadcasting Teep’s location. A check of her HUD confirms as much.

“See you around,” Minty cheerfully bids.

Teep leaves her office without a backwards glance. She waits until she can see their marker leave the lift before allowing herself a victory drink.

Later on a random whim, Minty checks on Teep’s location. They’ll have found out that the device resists removal. It’s made out of the stuff that maximum security prisons used for their handcuffs.

The marker’s midway to Pandora.

It can’t be. Minty brings up her monitor, pulling up the passenger logs for Zylus’ shuttle (spaceship, he always corrected). Nobody’s inbound or outbound, unless they’ve snuck aboard. Given how Zylus set up the space inside the shuttle, that’s unlikely.

Sighing, Minty directly ECHOs the tracker. If it’d been set up correctly, it should have a direct link to the ECHO device. “Teep, why are you leaving Elpis?” She drawls, waiting for an explanation.

There’s a confused beat. “...This is Zylus.”

She refrains from slamming her head onto the desk, settling for massaging her forehead. “Can I get you to check your ankle?”

“Uh...sure?” There’s a rustle as Zylus does just that. “Minty, I can indeed confirm that I got a thing on me.”

_ Fuck.  _ “Does it look like a bracelet? It’s black, beeps when you get a finger in underneath the edge and has a red, blinking light.”

“...Yes?”

“Zylus, please turn that ship around so I can get that tracker off you.”

Minty turns the volume down. Just in time too, because Zylus screams, “...IT’S A TRACKER?”

An hour later, Zylus is leaving Minty’s office. Getting the tracker off had been easier said than done. There’s a mutual understanding that neither of them are to talk about what’d just happened, ever. Well, except for Teep. They’re responsible for this mess.

Speak of the Siren, there’s Teep leaving the black market with Rythian in tow. Zylus marches over to the two of them.

“Teep, can I talk to you at my place?” Zylus grounds out as politely as possible.

“Zylus, is everything okay-” Rythian blinks. The look on Zylus’ face isn’t one that he sees often. Zylus looks ready to murder in broad daylight. “Alright, sure.”

Zylus rents an apartment from Minty. It’s acts as storage than a place he actively lives in. Minty’s also got the key so that she can help herself to any of the extra supplies he stashes here. 

He hasn’t told her that he copied his key so that his friends can help themselves to the apartment’s amenities (like the shower, kitchen or bed).

Otherwise, Zylus treats the place like a rest stop, catching a few hours worth of sleep before making the trip back down to Pandora.

He opens the door, graciously letting Rythian and Teep in. Minty keeps the place clean for him. Hers is next door. She’s not in right now, so Zylus can do doesn’t have to worry about disturbing her or the neighbors. 

Taking a hint, Rythian pretends to be interested in the tiny kitchen, heading over to the coffee machine to help himself.

Well, Zylus can’t really corner Teep. Teep’s taller than him, so trying to be intimidating using height fails instantly. All Zylus can do is narrow his eyes and try to glare (an effect hampered by his monocle).

“You told me that it was a fitness bracelet,” Zylus hisses.

Teep shrugs. Their lack of concern baffles him rather than pissing him off. “Sorry for wanting you to get fit."

“I’m fit enough as it is!”

With a finger, Teep pokes Zylus in the belly. "This is called 'fat', Zylus.” Their fingers had formed air quotes to convey sarcasm after the word ‘fat’. “It’s what happens when you are a smelly, unshaven hermit who doesn’t work out."

“I don’t smell!” Zylus objects. “And I’m not fat, or a hermit, and I just shaved!” He also works out since scrap metal isn’t just going to haul itself halfway across bandit country to sell itself.

“Prove it.” Teep drops their hands, glancing at him expectantly.

“I will!” Zylus undoes the buttons to his jacket, tossing it onto the couch and yanking his shirt off over his head. Still holding his shirt, he puts his hands on his hips, back straight, and flushing slightly. “See? It’s not  _ fat,  _ it’s muscle!”

In the background, Rythian trips when he happens to glance over and spot a shirtless Zylus.

Teep whips out their ECHO device to snap a picture. Zylus circles them, glimpsing the device’s screen.

“Why are you sending that to  _ Ravs _ ?”

Teep gives him a look. “To prove that you’re not fat, smelly, or an unfit hermit.”

\--

\- // Teep is no longer idle in ‘super duper happy fun times on the fucking moon’. // -

\- // Teep has attached an image. // -

Teep: check out this loser posing

Teep: hes got better guns than you ravs

\- // Ravs is no longer idle. // -

\- // Rythian is no longer idle. // -

Ravs: oh,  _ hello. _

Ravs: zylus, why didn’t you show them off sooner?

Zylus: i fucking hate you teep

Teep: hate is such a strong word for our relationship

Rythian: who pinned the photo in chat

Rythian: so all we see first are zylus’ (nice) guns

Teep: lol

Ravs: i approve of this!

Zylus: sdgggj

Zylus: ;;

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Ravs: Hang on, I got to look at this.

Daltos: You’re trying to avoid my cooking.

Ravs: Your cooking’s nice! I always clear the plate,  _ and _ ask for seconds.

Daltos: That’s because you’re always a slut for my cooking.

Ravs: Don’t you go slut-shaming my appetite.

Daltos: That’s it, what’re you looking at that’s so funny?

Ravs: It’s nothing, just a silly photo that the friend I told you about just took and sent-

Daltos: ...How do you know Zylus?

Ravs: Please don’t get mad.

Daltos: I’m not  _ mad,  _ I just want to know how you know  _ him _ .

Ravs: Look, I met him several months after I met you.

Daltos: Tell me where he is.

Ravs: No.

Daltos: I’ll find him eventually.

Ravs: I’m not telling you where my friend is so you can go and kill him!

Daltos: ...You really think I want to kill him?

Ravs: He said as much.

Daltos: He ever told you what he did?

Ravs: A bit.

Daltos: He stranded  _ three hundred _ people, including me, and Arsenal on Pandora. Over half those people died in the landing and the mutiny onboard.

Ravs: I thought that was all you?

Daltos: No, it fucking wasn’t.

Ravs: You’ve killed more people than that in the time that I’ve known you.

Daltos: At least I wanted to kill those people.

Ravs: You’re not guilting me into giving up his location.

Daltos: Alright. Enjoy the rest of the food.

Ravs: Wait, don’t go yet.

Daltos: Did you change your mind?

Ravs: No, I haven’t.

Daltos: Then take your hand  _ off _ my arm before I break it.

Ravs: Look, I know you’re mad I didn’t tell you sooner-

Daltos: Me?  _ Mad _ ? Whatever gave you that impression?

Ravs: Okay, you say you’re not mad but you look like you’re going to head for the Fast Travel Station and ditch me.

Daltos: I’m going to  _ smoke _ .

Ravs: Yeah, right. And I’m  _ definitely _ about to give you his location.

Daltos: Why are you protecting him?

Ravs: Because he’s my  _ friend _ .

Daltos: I thought I was your friend too.

Ravs: Well, you’re a lot more than that at the moment, but you are my friend too.

Daltos: Then tell me where he is.

Ravs: No. I’m not letting my friends bloody kill each other- Daltos, what the  _ fuck _ ?

Daltos: You wouldn’t take your hand off me. What’re you going to do about it-

Ravs: Hit  _ back _ , of course.

Daltos: ...I didn’t make you bleed that much.

Ravs: Should have fucking thought of that before you punched me.

Daltos: No, we’re not fighting.

Ravs: Then what the fuck were we doing then?

Daltos: Saying goodbye.

Daltos: Don’t fucking call me.

Ravs: Daltos-

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

Minty jogs up the stairs to her apartment. Her apartment’s located on the top level of Concordia within walking distance from the plaza. 

Her day off officially starts in half an hour. There’s a brand new crate of moonshine ready to crack open and taste test, plus a giant backlog of ECHOnet shows Arsenal’s been spamming her with. Chores too, that’s always on her list of things to do.

Maybe she should just hire a robot to do all the cleaning and shit for her. Problem is, no spare robots are left in Concordia. Pyrionflax’s been trying to fix the original customs officer, a futile effort given the robot’s internals are deep fried. It’s doubtful that Hyperion will send down replacement parts if asked to.

Following the usual routine, Minty straightens the doormat in front of Zylus’ rented apartment. When her eyes fall on the door, she frowns. A slit exposes the door’s unlocked state. She and Zylus have the only keys.

Minty sighs. “A sheriff’s job is never done,” She grumbles, entering the apartment.

Oh, for the love of- the kitchen’s been vandalized, numerous plates, forks and pans soaking in the sink, plus a bunch of burnt shit left crusting by the stove. The heater’s running, flooding the place with warmth. The  _ bastards  _ hadn’t even closed the door properly.

She stalks towards the other rooms, boot spurs clicking like her footsteps might split the floor into two.

What  _ nerve.  _ She snorts, spotting evidence that one of the culprits is not too far away. Teep’s jacket is hanging off the bathroom’s doorknob. Without giving any kind of warning, Minty barges in to accost them.

“Teep! What do you think you’re doing, breaking into-” Through the cloud of steam in the air, Minty stares into electric blue eyes.

Rythian’s mouth is open, his hair slicked back. He gapes at her, his hand in the middle of reaching out for a towel. Her eyes flick downward before settling somewhere over Rythian’s shoulder.

He starts screaming. Tight-lipped, Minty retreats to let him get dressed, her hat tugged down over her eyes.

Hidden by the couch, Teep snickers. Taking off their jacket to fool her into walking on Rythian in the shower had been totally worth it.

Now the score’s even, especially after Minty had booby-trapped every single entrance into Concordia with glow in the dark paint, dust, glitter, confetti, super glue and stuff that took fucking forever to remove.

Rythian can’t look Minty in the eyes for a solid week after that incident.

\--

Hollie rushes over to Teep when they stop by the medical bay to pick up a new pack of Anshin syringes. “Vault Hunter!” She flushes when Teep stares at her. Well, it’s better than shouting ‘killer’. “I forgot your name, alright?”

“It’s Teep,” Berym helpfully calls out from behind a screen.

“Teep! I’ll try to remember that.” She laughs, sheepishly as she pokes both her fingers together. “We both need your help something fierce.” Hollie peers at them with an intensity that Teep’s seen in amateur poker players trying to intimidate their senior opponents. It makes her look like she’s trying to read an eye chart.

“What is it?” Teep deigns to sign when it’s clear that she really,  _ really _ wants them to do something, and saying ‘no’ is going to blacken their name in Minty’s books.

“Minty went off to get some ice for us half an hour ago. She hasn’t come back yet,” Hollie explains, fidgeting on the spot. “We’re kind of worried.”

“Why?” After the last series of encounters, Teep’s not that keen on helping her out.

“It shouldn’t take her this long!” Hollie takes a deep breath. “She’s usually back in a flash with the drill and ice before my coffee’s cold, but this time, she’s not!”

Teep remains silent. This distresses Hollie, who shoots a pleading look at Berym for their help. Berym puts down the report in their hands, taking off their reading glasses.

“I know you two don’t...get along, but she’s all that stands between Hyperion and the people who live here,” Berym wisely rumbles. “So please give us a hand?”

Why doesn’t it surprise Teep that she’s  _ that  _ kind of self-sacrificing, justice mongering, bull-headed person?

“Fine, all you had to do was say the magic word.” They accept. “Where’d she go?”

Hollie beams at them. “Great! Here’s the coordinates.”

This is how a minute later, Teep’s following the tracks of her Stingray. Tracking’s not a skill that they got to use often. Minty’s tracks take Teep into unknown territory, in the opposite direction of Vorago Solitude. 

They should have brought Rythian along as backup. Unfortunately, Rythian’s half an hour away, engrossed in his studies.

As Hollie and Berym had impressed, time’s ticking. While Teep doesn’t like Minty, they’ve got no problem with her citizens (though it’s grating how they stood up for her, despite her blatant flaunting and disregarding of the law whenever it suited her sadistic whims).

Teep finds Minty crouched behind the rocks forming the entrance to the ice pools. The drill’s strapped to her back, the collection tube being gripped in one hand.

A group of Shugguraths drift lazily overhead. Their tentacles lightly clack like ice cubes in a too-small glass. 

Minty’s eyes are tracking the movements of the creatures. By sight alone, she’s determining the best path to the nearest ice pool.

Teep frowns. They’d been seeing warnings posted around Concordia that it’s swarming season for shugguraths and rathyds. It’s not a good time for the ice at the medical bay to run out.

Slipping into a shadow allows Teep to monitor Minty. She waits until the shugguraths have gathered at the far end to bump into each other, crooning and clicking away. 

The drill’s hauled into position. It begins to crack the ice, boring through the surface.

Sweat pours down Minty’s grim face, her teeth grit as the effort of keeping the drill in place begins to take its toll on her. Her eyes alternate between watching the drill’s progress and the shugguraths. White clouds in front of her face, fogging up the Oz kit keeping her alive.

An ice core is spat out by the drill. Minty stoops to corral it into the collection tube, snapping the lid shut. She rises, wiping the sweat off her head. One core will keep the bay stocked until spawning season’s done.

Teep’s finger traces the surface of the pebble they picked up. They lower it, dropping it onto the ground. As Minty rises, she knocks a pebble with the slowing drill bit.

From afar, Teep watches it fall onto the ice. The sound of it bounces off to reverberate in the cavern.

The rathyd sweeping the pools lets out a series of alarmed clicks, flapping ungainly towards at the disturbance. Minty’s eyes flick to the rathyd.

The rathyd spots her and sends out an alert.

She draws Law and shoots. In less than a minute, she’s fending off a group of giant freezing shugguraths. The shugguraths are crowding her, pinning her down in the corner of the ice pools. By her feet lie the ice drill and the cylindrical container full of precious ice.

Presumably, Minty had thought she could get the ice and come back without any problems. With a glance, Teep can tell that she has little hope of killing shugguraths armed with only a pistol, and a Jakobs one at that. Law’s no good out in these parts where she has no power over nature.

They turn away, preparing to leave on their Stingray.

Minty’s more trouble than she’s worth. The town doesn’t need her. Towns on Pandora operated on their own without the presence of a sheriff. A few happily allowed bandits to even serve the place of sheriffs. On Elpis, someone else will eventually take her place.

The law had an infuriating habit of doing that until nobody knew what the law is and the people forged their own brand of law.

Teep’s fingers curl around the handlebar, the one that’d boot up the Stingray’s engines into hover mode. They can tell Hollie and Berym that they’d arrived far too late.

Just like Saberial had, for Panda.

(This is  _ different _ .)

(No, it’s  _ not _ .)

Minty fires off one last shot before Law’s stalled by the ice growing over the barrel and blade. Before it can get destroyed, she despawns it. 

Cursing, she glares at the shuggurath responsible. All the blood smearing the side of her head makes it hard to see. Besides her, dead rathyds (with torn off wings or bullet holes) form a lawn of blue bodies.

Her stiffened boot causes the ice drill to knock against the collection tube. The tube rolls behind a bunch of rocks. Perfect. It’ll be safe there. 

With her remaining hand, Minty spawns a grenade, her thumb catching in the pin. She might have spent a giant part of her Dahl career moving papers, but her time on Pandora’s taught her that suicide’s always preferable than going down without a fight. 

Sorry Arsenal, life’s like that. You have tons of fun and then it’s all over in a flash. Minty has no regrets. The pin digs against her thumb. She’s also running out of oxygen, down to her second last can.

Before she can yank the pin out, a corrosive lined shot begins to devour the shuggurath closest to her. The shuggurath lets out agonized shrieks as its main eyes begin to melt. Acid hungrily eats through flesh without pausing.

A second shot kills another, drawing the attention of the others towards the entrance of the cavern. Minty can’t feel one of her arms. The cryo’s claiming it, destroying what it can.

The last rathyd divebombs her, preparing to take off her head. Minty arms the grenade, gritting her teeth in preparation for the explosion. Her eyes squeeze shut.

Hmph, so this is how she goes out: with a bang, all for some fucking ice. Bah, it could have been worse.

She doesn’t see the bayonet spearing the rathyd from behind, killing it instantly. The grenade’s pried out of her palm. It’s thrown towards the ice pools. Minty cracks open her eyes to see Teep turning back to her, backed by the fiery explosion.

“Didn’t need no help getting ice,” She mutters through clenched teeth so they don’t chatter.

Teep remains silent as they gather up the drill and canister, showing both in their inventory. Minty can feel herself blacking out from lack of oxygen. The cryo begins to leech the vital heat from her chest and abdomen, making her shiver involuntarily.

Something touches her face, sliding over her mouth and nose. Precious oxygen drains into her meter and into the bubble over her head. When her head clears, Teep’s sliding the mask back under their loose face wrappings.

Thanks, that prolongs her life. If she’s not going to die of oxygen starvation, she’s going to die of cryo making her an ice statue. Teep doesn’t seem that bothered by eliminating one cause of death, pulling her towards them. 

She stumbles. Her legs are stuck together, all stiff like a figurine’s ball joints screwed tightly shut with gum. By dragging and pulling her, Teep moves her over to their parked Stingray.

Heck, there’s no room on a Stingray for two, not unless Teep carries her on their back and risks getting infected by the cryo too.

Go figures, that’s what protecting Concordia all amounts to: a shit death for being a shitty person.

\--

Hollie and Berym fuss over Minty before they deem it safe for Teep to see her. The two had thrown a fit of sorts when Teep had shown up in Concordia, Minty slung over their back, cryo pouring off the two of them in icy sheets.

They’d stuck around to give a basic report. When Hollie and Berym had started stripping Minty’s clothes off, Teep had stepped outside. 

Ten minutes later, they’d asked Teep to carry her (wrapped in a thermal blanket) to Pyrionflax’s place. Pyrionflax’s place has the only decently sized bathtub in the whole top level of Concordia.

One pistol between Pyrionflax’s eyes (while overkill, guns worked nicely in the persuasion department, certainly quicker than words) told Pyrionflax to let the four in, or get wrecked.

Berym and Pyrionflax cleared a table in the cluttered workshop. Hollie and Teep worked on getting Minty thawed out.

Minty awakens naked in the bathtub. She’s sitting up, head lolling against the tiled wall. Her left hand is stubbornly resisting a frustrated Hollie’s attempts to free it from its horrible prison.

“Hey there, I got your ice,” Minty slurs. Water sloshes over her chest when she shifts to prop her feet up on the bathtub’s edge.

Hollie lets out a small, joyful shriek. “Minty! You’re awake!”

“I sure am, with how much noise you’re making,” Minty says, chuckling. Her right hand claws the hair out of her eyes so that it falls backwards rather than everywhere. “So I guess this means that I don’t need to buy you dinner, will I?” That same hand gestures to her current lack of clothing.

Hollie goes redder than Minty’s warmed skin. “I’ll be the one buying you dinner if you pull through!”

Blue eyes narrow, looking amused. “Sure, I’ve always liked a girl who’s good with her hands,” Minty sighs. “Something  _ really _ hurts a lot.”

“That’s the rest of you,” Hollie hastily says. “Just relax, we’re trying to get your other hand out.”

“You can’t.” Minty stares at the ceiling. “Where’s a cigarette when I need one?”

“Minty, we’ll save your hand.”

“It was the first thing the shugguraths froze,” Minty calmly says. “It’ll be completely solid by now. Not even the drill can crack it.”

“But it’s your shooting hand!” In tears, Hollie whirls on Teep, who’s been leaning against the sink. “We can save it, right?”

Teep shakes their head. Minty’s entire left hand is blue-white, resembling the shuggurath’s blotchy hides.

“You got to cut it off,” Minty gently says.

“No! You’ll die!” Hollie shouts. Her shout bounces off the tiles, making Minty wince.

“Better that than becoming a frozen popsicle.” Already, the solidified ice is creeping up Minty’s wrist, millimetre by millimetre.

“I can’t cut your arm off, I’m not a surgeon!” Hollie begins to cry, tears dribbling down her cheeks. “Berym can’t do it either, and Pyrionflax’ll faint if you suggest it.”

Minty reaches down for her coat. She spawns her favored pistol. It’s covered in melting frost. “Can you come over here, Teep?”

“What do you want Teep to do?” Hollie stares.

Teep crouches by Minty. She hands the pistol to Teep with a shit-eating grin. “You know what to do. Shame I didn’t get to have one last drink.” 

> Nope.

Teep unloads the pistol of all of its leftover rounds, letting the ammo drop into their inventory. 

Minty sits up, glaring at them. If she hadn’t been feeling so fucking off, she’d have slugged them across the face by now. Still could. “What the  _ fuck  _ do you think you’re doing?”

> Saving you.

> Hang on, or I’ll drop you.

Teep despawns the pistol, leaning over to pick her up. Their jacket and long-sleeved shirt gets completely drenched in a second. Minty gets an arm up and around Teep’s shoulders, making it easier for them to carry her out. Hollie throws the thermal blanket over her to maintain her modesty.

Berym’s waiting by the decluttered table. Teep lowers Minty onto it. Pyrionflax supplies a pillow (patterned with pixelated skulls) underneath Minty’s head.

“Thanks,” Minty mutters. At least they’re trying to make her more comfortable before she dies. Well, dying naked’s always been an interesting way to go.

“You’re going to cut off her arm?” If Pyrionflax’s eyes bulged any larger, they’d have popped free.

> Yes.

“My hero,” Minty dryly remarks. “You’re a killer and a doctor, I see.”

> Disclaimer: I am not nor ever claimed to be a qualified medical professional.

> That said, I’m your only hope.

“You know what to do, right?”

> Yes.

“Do it.” Minty turns her head so that all she can see is the ceiling.

“I can try to help guide them,” Berym weakly says, all their usual gruffness absent. It’s replaced by a shaky calm.

“For a nurse, you got a pretty weak stomach,” Minty jokes. “Just do what you got to do.” She yawns as the anaesthetic Hollie’s jabbed into her begins to work.

Teep grips the tool that Berym shakily hands them and leans over Minty’s arm. 

> Third time’s the charm.

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

MintyMinute: Sorry, had to switch to ECHO, I can’t type very well with one hand.

Arsenal: There’s other things you can do with one hand, if you catch my drift.

MintyMinute: You’re lucky you’re on Pandora or I’d have that hand down your throat right now.

Arsenal: Do you see me right now? This is me, fanning myself because  _ wow,  _ you have a wonderful way with words. I missed your dirty talk  _ so much _ .

MintyMinute: I should send you a baby kraggon for that atrocious alliteration.

Arsenal: If you do, I’ll call it Minty’s Boner.

MintyMinute: That depends on if I can find a crate that’s large enough  _ and _ indestructible.

Arsenal: You know me, I can’t wait to handle your ‘package’- hey, hey, don’t throw a hat over me!

MintyMinute: I’m changing. Don’t you know I’m a delicate maiden whose pure, virginal flower can only be gazed upon by her betrothed on their wedding night?

Arsenal: Never say ‘virginal’ again. It makes me want to kiss a cheese grater.

MintyMinute: Record it and save it for me. It’ll give me something to laugh at when I’m down.

Arsenal: On second thought, I’ll do anything but that.

MintyMinute: You could kiss my ass. 

Arsenal: I could eat off your ass.

MintyMinute: Or you could help me. Do you know how hard it is to change out of a top with only one hand?

Arsenal: You try changing pants when one leg’s fucked.

MintyMinute: We could walk a mile in each other’s shoes for a day.

Arsenal: Nah, pass, I already do everything one-legged. Doing it as well one-handed is not going to work out well.

MintyMinute: Suck it up, son.

Arsenal: You know that that’s not the only thing I can do.

MintyMinute: Of course, you also know how to be a doormat.

Arsenal: Oof, that is a  _ low  _ blow. But you love it when I’m your doormat.

Daltos: Stop flirting with her and get back to work.

Arsenal: I am working! I’m working on getting her comfortable!

MintyMinute: Daltos, nice to see you.

Daltos: What happened to you?

MintyMinute: Got my arm amputated after cryo got too intense. Also, what happened to your  _ face _ ?

Daltos: My face is fine.

MintyMinute: New scar, right on the kisser. Looks nasty.

Arsenal: He got into a fight with Ravs.

MintyMinute: You know that getting physical doesn’t mean actually punching each other, right?

Daltos: Goodbye.

Arsenal: Hang on, he’s coming back.

Daltos: Take some shit for that arm, it looks like it’s inflamed. Arsenal, sort out the bunk beds situation, there’s too many fights over who gets the top one.

Arsenal: After the call. I swear, cross my heart and hope to die.

MintyMinute: Later, Daltos. Keep that pretty face of yours out of trouble, you hear?

Daltos: My face isn’t any of your business!

Arsenal: See, he cares.

Daltos: Do not! I just don’t want Arsenal bawling if you kick the bucket.

Arsenal: He so does care.

MintyMinute: So does Ravs. I just got a bunch of flowers and a get well card with a middle finger drawn on it.

Arsenal: See, we care. Even if we’re not very good at showing it.

MintyMinute: Hey, you never mentioned about how much it fucking hurts.

Arsenal: Oh, it’ll hurt. Worse than period cramps. Well, depending on whether or not you both get them at the same time. Personally, I’d take cramps any day.

MintyMinute: Oh joy.

Arsenal: I’m sending you some shit that might help. Hey Daltos! 

Daltos: What?

Arsenal: Can you drop off a package with the couriers for me when you go out next time?

Daltos: No! Do it yourself!

Arsenal: He’ll do it, he just bitches about it because everyone else will want him to drop off some other stuff too.

MintyMinute: Arsenal, I got a visitor. I’ll ECHO you later.

Arsenal: And I got to go before Daltos thinks I’m not doing my job.

MintyMinute: Was good talking to you.

Arsenal: Sucks about the arm, it really does. I’ll ask around and see if there’s any tips the one-armed bandits can give you. By the way, your old crew says ‘hi’.

MintyMinute: Thanks. Tell them I said ‘hi’ back and I hope that they’re behaving.

Arsenal: Blow me a kiss- that’s your middle finger, not a kiss.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

“Come in,” Minty calls. “How’d you find out where I live?”

“Hollie,” Teep signs, edging around the door and closing it behind them with a soft click. A few strides brings them to the bed that Minty’s lounging around in.

“Arm’s doing fine, before you ask about it.” She props herself up on her pillows. Dressed in shorts and a singlet, she doesn’t give a shit if Teep sees her half underdressed.

Teep places a medkit in front of her. It’s still wrapped in its plastic, tamperproof packaging. Minty raises an eyebrow. “Odd choice of a get-well present.”

> It’s not a present.

“What is it? Charity?” Minty scoffs. “I can do charity, but if it’s a pity gift, I’m tossing it out the window.” The medkit looks like it came right out of Anshin’s premium medical catalogue. If it’s because they feel sorry for her, Minty’s not going to make an exception. 

Well, it  _ is  _ a brand new kit, and infinitely more useful than flowers.

Ravs’ flowers might be holographic, glitching in and out of existence every few minutes but they’re doing a wonderful job of filling Hollie’s dinky, lop-sided handmade moon clay vase. He’d also sent up some cans of ravioli with a note going ‘eat me ;)’.

Arsenal had gifted her a small tub of the burning, firemelon goop that he claims works like magic on his leg, whenever it’s playing up. Failing that, a stock of extra bandit-made painkillers. She’ll use those as a last resort, thanks. Also, he’s included a bunch of adult goods, along with a handwritten note.

“They say pleasure’s good for pain! ;) ” Hugs and kisses filled in the rest of the space on the note, spanning the other side as well.

In Arsenal’s package, Daltos had included his gift too. It’s a carefully packaged box of her favourite rations. The  _ bastard _ had told her that he’d run out of them when she’d last asked.

Pyrionflax had bestowed a transparent G-string, which she’s going to shove over their bald head at the first chance. Or force Pyrionflax to wear it and parade around the pole in the Captive Creeper.

Bless Zylus, Zylus’ left her with cookies, plus a promise to cook a few meals for her. Seriously, why nobody’s kidnapped him yet is a real mystery.

> It’s not.

Teep tugs another object out of their jacket, leaving it next to the medkit. It’s Law. It’s not as she knows or remembers it.

The fingernail thick layer of frost’s been scraped off with such care that the original paint job’s still intact underneath, not a single flake curling or peeling. 

Light curves around the gun’s polished surface, cushioning it against the table. The blade’s edge is missing its jagged, sawn off appearance, sharpened to a lethal fineness. Every single notch, mark and nick the gun’s ever gained stands out against the scratched wood and metal, as intact as the day that the gun gained them.

Knowing  _ how _ to look at a gun revealed much more than scars about a person, more than words ever could.

The gun looks exactly as it did on the day that Concordia became hers. She’s stepped back through time. 

Her boots clunk on the floor, kicking aside reeking bodies to reach the last one. The pistol is still smoking, the rounded barrel dipping in a pool of blood. The blade bolted to the pistol gleams with the cartilaginous slickness of a deep sea monster’s hide.

Victory’s never been so sweet before. It might have been the adrenaline distorting the blood sticking to the roof of her mouth, from the stuck second when the trigger had depressed, hand snapping back, her shot finding its target dead-centre in the next second. 

Time had stood still for her, to let her revel in the exact moment of her astonishing victory. She’d known she could do it, convinced since leaving Zylus’ spaceship.

“You sure know how to take care of a gun,” Minty leans back, letting the headboard hold her weight. 

Smoke, blood, and fear weigh her tongue down, phantoms that her memory’s mastered in recreating, often hand-in-hand with the scene happening in her head.

The only other person she knows who’s capable of treating a gun that well is Arsenal. That ridiculous knack of his can make a white quality gun pass for a legendary after he’s given it the whole treatment. 

People (usually bandits, including those from rival gangs), risked turning up to the frigate to commission him.

Closing her eyes lets her imagination run wild.

Arsenal would have held Law up to the light, rough fingers exploring the surface, figuring out the gun’s specs by hand. Sight isn’t everything, not to people like him who  _ needed  _ to touch and feel a gun to work their magic. 

Still, Arsenal could grade what a gun’s capable of with a mere glance without needing to pick it up. He’s not afraid to say what he thinks of it either to anyone’s face.

He’s started fights by walking up to another Bandit Lord and telling them flat out that ‘no self-respecting bandit would keep using that peashooter of yours, not even as a toothpick’, forcing Daltos to step in. Minty used to think he did it on purpose to troll Daltos, being the little shit that he is.

“What a piece of shit, Jakobs oversells, but all that fucking  _ firepower’s  _ a dream.” He’d have sighed, putting her gun down, digging out a busted lockbox from his inventory.

The precious box contains paints and paintbrushes, one of his luckier finds during that one road trip that the four of them don’t talk about (ever). A thimble of a container (its label shed long ago), the lid cracked, with the seal’s somehow still holding is tugged out of its hiding place, one of the metal compartments containing similar jars of pigment.

Arsenal uses a toothpick to extract a flake (so fine that it might have been gold leaf), transferring it to a bottle cap like he’s mixing grenade powder, an open flame and a finicky corrosive mod. A drop of water from an eyedropper’s mixed well with the flake, the toothpick swirling the two until they combined into a congealing, milky paste.

The tiniest paintbrush, bristles as thin as a sprig of dried drakefruit’s delicate flower stems, dips into the bottle cap. It emerges covered in white. 

According to the bandits in the frigate, the bristles are reportedly made of human hair ripped from his slaughtered enemies. 

Arsenal’s entertained by the rumors, choosing to encourage them by giving an appraising nod to a passing bandit (the poor bastard often sporting the best head of hair). Sometimes he carried around a tape measure and stopped a random victim to run the tape next to their head, bidding them a cheerful ‘thanks for your time, mate, and remember to use the conditioner, okay?’.

Next day, the terrified bandit might have shaved or chosen a shorter hairstyle. Ravs always did a brisk roaring trade during those times. Coincidentally, cootie infestations died out until bandits thought that they’re safe (or the cooties returned).

Really the brushes are made out the standard, cheap fur yanked out of some poor animal’s suitable hide. Arsenal hasn’t found a use for human hair. Knowing him, it’s only a matter of time.

Pearly droplets drip from the brush bristles until no more fall. With a steady hand, Arsenal leans over the gun. He paints an ‘M’ in cursive, stamping a corner on the grip with the lone letter. The gun is now all hers, even if it’s pried from her cold dead body. 

Perhaps that how the myths about cursed guns arose. The more superstitious bandits claimed that when a gun’s became a part of the person, if taken from the battlefield, it’d forever roam the world to be reunited again with their beloved owner’s grave by manipulating a greedy sod as its puppet. The Rats didn’t believe in such crock, far more interested in what the vending machines would cough up for the looted goods.

Regarding the paint, Arsenal swears that the paint could last for decades. Minty’s inclined to privately agree. He’s also never placed that much stock in superstitions. Guns were made to be used, not left out to be ruined by whatever Pandora threw at it.

Every gun he’s painted endured the standard wear and tear of hard use, hundred foot drops, clubbing, explosions, being used as impromptu tools or props, the woes of weather, alcohol, grease, oil and assorted stains from a bandit’s hedonistic lifestyle that all dry cleaners shuddered at.

And yet, people claim that bandits didn’t know how to build jack shit, guns included. These same people also happened to die on the noisy end of a bandit made gun.

Who’s laughing  _ now _ , shithead?

Arsenal gifts assault rifles  _ literal teeth _ , on top of a generous ammo capacity to let a single bandit shoot their way through a whole town and the civilian militia without thinking of reloading.

Pistol whipping takes on a whole new meaning, one that he’d happily demonstrate on the skeptics. SMGs no longer dribble rounds; they  _ spat _ . His rocket launchers pack punches to make the Buzzard pilots demand his attention and the pyromaniacs to pledge allegiance to him on the spot. 

The rare sniper (yes, they existed, how else could gangs harvest rakk meat for the bonfires or spot potential convoys to pick on) swears that their sniper rifles haven’t stalled since Arsenal laid his hands on them.

One thing’s certain: they all wanted him to  _ paint  _ their gun, boomstick, little bandit, or whatever pet name’s used to refer to a favourite weapon.

Thing is, Arsenal didn’t just paint any old gun people tossed at him. He panned through the ocean for the few truly worthy of his time and attention. Of course, for the right price or barter, he’s always happy to waive that rule.

Daltos bartered difficult truces by throwing in Arsenal’s valuable gift (never free,  _ always _ in tandem with another offer). Arsenal encouraged it; it gave him the kind of credibility that winning battles and taking names offered when he could no longer venture out.

In the time it takes to for the paint to air dry, he’d have put away the paint and chatted to her while beginning his next commission. The final coating to fix it in place is never a slapdash affair. Every stroke counts (like his bullets, nothing’s wasted, if he can help it).

He never signs his works. While he’s not exactly anonymous because of that choice, nobody dares to pass off counterfeits. The person he’d crucified (using rifle bayonets to keep them pinned to the billboard) at the nearest neutral ground is a great reminder that he’s got the power to make them pay. And in blood too.

Blood ties a lot of things together.

All Minty has now is Concordia and bittersweet memories of a life before that. Her sheriff’s pistol is a bookmark between the chapters of her life. One day, she’ll find something else to use as a bookmark, perhaps even move it altogether.

And then there’s Teep. If they and Arsenal ever meet, she’d love to know what they could get up to when they combine forces. Perhaps they could even build a legendary from scratch from all the parts Arsenal keeps hoarding.

Nothing good will come of mixing the past and present. The two are like oil and water. They mesh for a bit but it’s better to leave the two be to settle, each to their own. 

Minty tugs the medkit over. One of her greatest, hidden talents is her ambidextrousness. So long as she’s still got the other arm, she’ll get by. With her teeth, she tears the plastic off the medkit. The zip troubles her. Teep leans over, tugging it free.

“Thanks,” Minty dryly says. “Now’s your chance to say something about how helpless I am without being arrested.” She finds the painkillers hiding underneath the bandages and heat patches (see, she’s right about it being high-end). Down one pill goes. Minty leaves the medkit on her bed.

Teep shakes their head, passing up the opportunity to smarttalk her.

“Huh. Cat got your tongue?” Minty laughs. This stuffy silence, she  _ hates  _ it, when two people who have pranked each other to Pandora and back shouldn’t be at a complete loss for what to say. “Well, I’ll be honest, I haven’t seen that much action on Elpis since I got here.” After that day, Elpis feared her. Good. It should stay that way.

> I can show you plenty of action.

“Are you  _ flirting _ with me?” Minty watches Teep shrug.

> Maybe.

> I want to see you shoot.

“Don’t think I’m in any condition to do any shooting right now.” Minty waggles the healing stump of her arm.

It’s currently sitting snug under three layers of absorbent bandages. Hollie had neatly stitched the loose flaps of skin over once Teep had sawn off her frostbitten, unresponsive limb. They’d done a fine job of it, the hack job stopping at her upper arm.

> There’s more than one definition to ‘seeing you shoot’.

“Maybe after,” Minty says, contemplatively.

Teep leans over to tuck in the end of a bandage that’s slipping free. Minty spies a bit of dried blood on a cloth wrapping, reaching up to pick at it.

They haven’t changed their jacket. This is not the jacket that’d emerged from a secret entrance covered in slimy children’s goop. This is a spare jacket, she thinks. Well fuck, she can tell the difference between each of Teep’s seemingly identical jackets.

When her fingernail snags on the wrapping, Teep just reaches up to dislodge the whole piece, letting it fall between them. 

Nail freed, she stares at the mask underneath curving over the lower half of their face. They’d used that to divert their store of oxygen to hers. She hadn’t expected them to still be wearing it.

> What?

> How else am I going to breathe outside on Elpis?

She punches Teep in the shoulder. “You  _ troll _ .”

> Did you seriously think that I’d let you see what’s underneath that easily?

“As the law, I demand to know what you’re hiding under there.”

Teep declines by giving her the middle finger.

She might be missing an arm, but that doesn’t mean she’ll let that kind of disrespect happen in her own bedroom. 

Minty boots Teep off the bed with a sweep of her bare leg. Her attempt’s stopped by Teep’s block. She grins. Her  _ other  _ leg slams into Teep’s side. Teep catches her by the calf, pinning that leg against their jacket as well.

> Now what?

She laughs at the cockiness of Teep’s message.

“ _ This _ .” Minty springs up to tear the hood off their head. Teep leans back, hands sliding up her legs to her hips, essentially settling there. Her momentum results in her straddling them on the bed. “I can move, if you’re uncomfortable.”

> I’m not complaining.

Minty’s hand slips under the hood, finding the catch to the mask. She pauses, moving her hand up higher, past their face. Short hair meets her roaming fingertips.

“Thanks for saving me.”

> Don’t thank me.

> If I’d helped you sooner, you wouldn’t have lost your arm.

“What?” Minty’s hand curls in their hair. Teep continues to languidly breathe underneath her. A few seconds pass before another message pops up in her HUD.

> I was there when they started attacking you.

At the admission, Minty grabs a handful of hair and yanks with enough force for Teep to know that she’s rattled. She leans down, her face right in their goggles so that they can’t ignore how she  _ bares  _ her teeth.

“You nearly  _ kill _ me, and then  _ save _ me. I was  _ right _ about you.” 

It’s almost erotic, what she’s doing, how low and harsh her voice is, lower body pressed up against them so intimately. While she freely entertained her own proclivities without giving a damn, this is like holding a knife to Teep’s throat and wishing that she could rip their head off so that she can fucking kiss it  _ goodbye _ .

This is like their first meeting all over again, back in the bar when she’d wanted to shoot them on the spot, and every single other time after that for being such a  _ troublesome, always silent _ ,  _ always smug _ fucker who couldn’t stop pushing her buttons if she pushed theirs.

All it does is remind her of how she used to be, and Arsenal.

She waits for a message to pop up, an explanation for their actions. Nothing. That infuriates her far more than a piss poor bit of incoherent text cobbled together at the last minute.

Minty withdraws her hand, sliding off them and the bed. Her bare feet hardly make a sound when they touch the floor. When Teep sits up, the Jakobs pistol’s aimed at their head.

The ‘why’ doesn’t matter, it’s the ‘what’, ‘when’ and ‘how’ that do. That’s all it is on the paperwork. That’s all it is to her. The cold hard facts won out over emotions, that’s what she’s learned from the second she’d pinned sheriff’s badge to her chest.

“I should  _ shoot _ you,” She threatens. 

In her hand, the gun doesn’t shake, from years of sharpshooting and actually having to shoot countless people between the eyes or let them die painfully and slowly. A quick and painless death is the only mercy she’s ever dished out without being asked for it.

Is Teep the type to accept it as it is or go out fighting, spewing hate until their last breath’s taken? It strikes her that she doesn’t know, and that’s where the similarities stop.

> Go ahead.

> I’d shoot myself if I could but I can’t.

There’s an impatient knock at the door. Without waiting for an invitation, Pyrionflax sidles in, carrying a parcel underneath an arm.

“Minty, I got an express delivery here-” Pyrionflax stops, mouth falling open. Their eyes dart between her and Teep.

“Put down what you’re holding and fucking get out,” Minty orders in her ‘obey or die’ voice. It’s the kind of voice that made drunks consider getting a glass of water instead of a third bottle of rakk ale. If they really wanted to be spared, perhaps leaving the bar is the better option.

“Can’t, needs your signature,” Pyrionflax’s mouth says before their brain can catch up and intercept it. Their whole face pales.

“What is it?” She snaps, lowering the gun.

“The scans say it’s a prosthetic,” Pyrionflax timidly reveals, quickly adding in a clear attempt to be helpful, so please don’t shot, “All the way from Anshin’s nearest medical base.”

Minty revolves on the spot to glare at Teep. “Is this your doing?” She sneers. “Do you really think that it’ll make up for what you did?”

“Mine, actually,” Pyrionflax swiftly concedes. “Saw it on sale and decided to snap the last one up.” Their arrogance laces their last words with a bargain hunter’s pride.

They do flinch when Minty turns her glare on them, leaving the pistol on the table. She thrusts her empty hand out. “Come on, I don’t have all fucking day.”

Pyrionflax nearly drops the pen as they hand it to her. Minty signs with a scowl and enough force to make the clipboard almost shatter. “Where do you want the-”

“The bed, if you don’t mind.” Pyrionflax leaves the parcel on the bed, backing away like he’s met with a snarling animal frothing at the mouth. “Tell Hollie to prep the medical bay, I’m coming down there in a tick.”

Pyrionflax flees the room, waddling out as fast as their short legs can carry them.

“ _ You _ are going to show me how to install and calibrate the prosthetic, and no, I don’t care if my arm’s healed up enough yet.” She grabs her hat off its stand, tugging off her sleepwear.

Teep’s already seen her buck naked. One more time won’t make a difference. Judging from their lack of reaction, nudity didn’t affect them as it did for other people. Still, Teep turns their back.

“Dunno why you’re being so proper now, a body’s a body.”

> You’re not wearing any nice panties, that’s why.

“You know, it’s really, really  _ fucking hard  _ to tell when you’re joking.” She viciously jabs them in the back with her hand as she passes. Teep deflects it with a flick of their own.

“After my arm’s installed and you teach me how to look after it, I want you out of my town once Rythian finishes whatever he’s doing.”

Teep nods, fixing their hood and face wrappings.

“You’re not going to argue?” Minty pulls on a shirt, one sleeve flapping loosely.

> It’s not like you wanted me around in the first place.

That brings up an excellent point she’s been wrestling with, in the times that Teep had turned up to Concordia. They’d abided the law (more importantly,  _ her  _ law), which is considerably more than what she’d ever expected of them. 

Despite all the pranks, inflicted humiliation, the sniping insults and banter about their respective lives, Minty had grown to respect them, albeit grudgingly.

Does rescuing her make up for their decision to abandon her? Does she  _ really _ owe them an apology? It’s fucking complicated. Minty loathes these kinds of questions with a passion that rivals her fondness for all kinds of booze.

Other sheriffs led simpler lives: just sort out people’s messes, shoot if you have to, and definitely don’t stop to think about what you’ve just done or who might suffer because of that one decision.

She doesn’t run an easy town, that’s for sure.

\--

\- // TForce is no longer idle. // -

TForce: I’m surprised she didn’t shoot you in front of me.

\- // DiNoScope is no longer idle. // -

DiNoScope: lol

DiNoScope: she should have

DiNoScope: thanks for delivering the package under your name

TForce: I’m just happy I didn’t have to pay for the prosthetic itself.

TForce: Costs almost as much as a purple quality Maliwan SMG.

TForce: Sooooo, do I have to do you

TForce: FUCK THIS BROKEN ENTER KEY SIDEWAYS TO HELL AND BACK

TForce: Don’t you dare screencap!!!!

DiNoScope: and why would i do that

TForce: Normally you’d drop it into the main chat but you don’t hang out there anymore.

DiNoScope: nope

DiNoScope: thanks to a certain someone

TForce: Anyway, before I make this even more awkward, and my enter key fucks me over again

TForce: Do I have to do you any more favors?

DiNoScope: oh

DiNoScope: you have no idea what i have planned for you :)

TForce: FUCK YOU TOTALLY COUNTS AS A FAVOR

TForce: I MEAN COUNTED AND THAT TOTALLY

DiNoScope: commas are important and no im not interested

DiNoScope: if you would be so kind as to carve that into your sex-obsessed skull

TForce: I need you to stop talking right now.

DiNoScope: do you know who youre talking to right now

TForce: Jysk, I regretted typing that the second I sent it.

\--

Rythian finds Teep outside the medical bay, leaning against the wall. It’s difficult to tell what Teep’s looking at. He can definitely make an educated guess, based on his past experiences. Teep could have been napping while standing up for all he knows.

His hand’s swatted away when he waves it in front of Teep’s goggles.

> I’m awake, you dipshit.

“Just thought you fell asleep standing up again,” Rythian says, lowering his hand. He’d heard the story second-hand from Ravs; Ravs had asked him to check on Minty if Teep already hasn’t.

> I have never fallen asleep standing up.

“Maybe you should hang a sign or something around your neck, it’d make it loads easier to tell.” Rythian peers past Teep into the medical bay.

> I should get me one of those eyemasks, but it’d probably fuck with my goggles.

Inside, Pyrionflax’s unwrapping the prosthetic arm from its packaging. Layers upon layers of packaging foam and bubble wrap cascade onto the floor when Pyrionflax shakes out the limb.

Dressed in a hospital gown with her stump exposed, Minty directs Pyrionflax to plug it into the monitor. Hollie and Berym watch with varying mixed expressions of anxiousness and concern.

“You’re freaking out,” Rythian comments. 

> You’re starting to become an expert on the human psyche, especially mine.

“Hollie, Berym and Pyrionflax have no amputation experience, while you apparently do.”

> Had to do a couple back in the hayday.

> Ever seen an arm almost get blown off at point-blank by a shotgun, and having to deal with the aftermath?

> It’s never pretty.

> Elective anatomy courses and practicals fucking rule.

“Last one standing wins,” Rythian quotes.

> Pretty much.

Rythian stands in front of Teep. They’re matching in height; Teep’s taller by a few millimetres. Their true height’s also a mystery. The fur-lined hood of their jacket interfered with that. He grounds the heels of his boots into the floor, taking a deep breath.

Both arms rise to hover on either side of Teep.

> This isn’t really the time or place for a scarecrow impression.

“Do you want a hug?” Rythian asks, phrasing the question with as much seriousness as possible, so that Teep doesn’t think he’s joking. Ravs fucking owes him one for checking up on them for him.

After a second, Teep steps forward, with a gingerness that Rythian associates with hydrophobic cats checking out still bodies of water. He takes that to be a ‘yes’, folding his arms around them.

Okay, hugging Teep is like hugging himself; Ravs frequently complained that Rythian didn’t know shit about how to react to a hug. He does, it’s just that Ravs’ hugs tended to veer towards ‘lung crushing goodness that leaves him feeling a little high after (whether due to needing air or the wonderfulness of physical contact).

Teep tenses up, their frame rigid. Why is it not surprising that they’d be at the opposite end of the hug spectrum?

“Pretend Ravs is the one hugging you,” Rythian advises. 

Teep’s hands twitch, like hearing Ravs’ name makes them want to grab their knife. The eventual way their frame relaxes makes Rythian congratulate himself for thinking of that smart move. 

It’s kind of endearing how Teep doesn’t know how to respond to the gesture, stoically enduring it as they would the sun or the cold.

“You don’t have to hug back, if you don’t want to.” He’s saying that because he doesn’t want to get stabbed in the back if Teep feels that he’s being too handsy. It takes a concentrated effort to keep his hands to Teep’s back. It’s also to avoid setting off whatever automatic defensive reflexes they’ve got.

Teep’s head gently bumps against his own.

> I’m tired of blood.

“You always seemed to deal with it fine.” Rythian draws back, enough to see his own face (blue eyes, aquiline nose, pale streaked brown hair, a permanently stern expression) in their goggles. “I’m sorry, for not being around as much as I should have been.”

> I’ll deal with it eventually.

> You were busy finding out the location of the next Vaults.

“Maybe too busy to check up on you,” Rythian admits. He steps back.

Teep shrugs. “You’re the only one who knows how to read the damned alien text,” They swiftly sign.

“I could teach you, if you want.”

“If it’ll pass the time faster. I’m getting sick of Elpis.” 

“I’m almost done deciphering the last of the walls,” Rythian reveals. “Except I ran out of paper.”

From their jacket, Teep withdraws a stack of loose paper bound in airtight plastic. “Was going to give these to you, but got sidetracked. Don’t get too wild with the crayons.”

“Thanks.” Rythian nods at Hollie, who meekly sidles up to Teep’s side.

“Minty wants you inside- forget I said that, she’s asked for you, so please come in?” Hollie quickly says. “Actually, pretend I didn’t make it sound dirty.”

“I’ll wait for you at Zylus’ place,” Rythian says to Teep. Teep nods in acknowledgement, following Hollie in.

“How’s this thing work?” Reclining in a modified dentist’s chair, Minty nods at the monitor. It’s displaying a readout that Pyrionflax is scratching their head over.

“Eyes, I can do, arms and legs, nope,” Pyrionflax huffs. “Why aren’t you and Berym trained in this?” That accusation’s directed at Hollie and Berym.

“Mate, I’m a retired nurse and Hollie’s a midwife, you can’t expect us to know all about this shit.” Berym grunts.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to look like you’re about to rip me a new one, mate.” Pyrionflax hastily returns to the monitor. “Green, have a look, would you?”

Teep surveys the monitor, tilting their head. They tug the keyboard over, beginning to type. Pyrionflax stands on tiptoe to watch, attempting to figure out what they’re doing. The readout changes to an introductory screen, text scrolling across the monitor as the menu waits for an input.

> You’re welcome.

“Congrats on your new arm, we hope you find it to your satisfaction, blah blah blah,” Pyrionflax sneers. “Does it actually tell us how to install it?”

Teep brings up an instructional video that has Pyrionflax backing away, their face going green. The video lasts for a few minutes. Teep scrolls back several times, watching it without much of a reaction. They stand after the fifth rewatch.

> I’m going to borrow your steriliser and a bunch of your shit.

“Please, help yourself to whatever you need!” Hollie says, dropping a whole rack of surgical instruments onto a tray. Berym takes it over to the sterilizer, shoving it in. The two gather machinery and tubes, pushing them into place around Minty, who impassively watches the whole scene.

> I also need you to get out.

“You can’t kick us out of the medical bay,” Berym says, frowning.

“Berym, Hollie, Pyrion, do any of you know how to open up an arm again?” Minty interrupts, sick of their fussing. The three mean well, but she values Teep the most right now for their can-do attitude.

“Nope!” Pyrionflax cheerfully says. “Let me know if you need me, I’m off to go and pretend that I didn’t see any of that video!”

“Berym, she’ll be fine. I trust them.” Hollie puts a hand on Berym’s arm when it looks like Berym’s about to argue with Teep.

“Alright.” Berym stumps off after Pyrionflax. 

That leaves Hollie alone with Teep and Minty. “Minty, about dinner…” She fidgets, twiddling her thumbs. Her face is as red as her hair.

“Sorry to bail on you,” Minty concedes, with a sheepish smile. “I was going to make us some kickass pasta, but things just got in the way. Plus, you don’t  _ really _ want to see a one-armed sheriff try cooking, do you?”

“Oh no, no! That’s fine, things happen.” Hollie laughs. “Listen, I’ll help you make the pasta, how about that?” She does something to Minty’s arm that Minty doesn’t quite see, far too busy checking out the blush on Hollie’s face.

“Provided I’m not passed out in bed and drooling by then,” Minty says, grinning.

“We can always do another night,” Hollie says, clearly relieved. “Please take care of her, Vault Hunter. I left some stuff out that you might find helpful. It’s clearly labeled-”

“Hollie, I’ll be fine,” Minty reassures. “Go before Teep shoots you.”

“Vault Hunter?”

> What?

“If you kill Minty, I’ll hunt you down, shoot you and crucify you, but if you need help, don’t hesitate to ask!” Hollie bows, fleeing the medical bay after.

> You could ask me out to dinner first, you know.

Teep locks the medical bay after her. Minty watches Teep slip out of their jacket, hanging it on a hook. They walk behind her. She can hear them pulling on rubber gloves, plus the bang of a metal tray being removed from the steriliser.

Minty lies down, craving a smoke. The painkiller’s run its course. The stump’s beginning to throb again, the kind of pain that feels like tiny demons with bonesaws are hacking away.

“What are you doing back there?” She calls out. Any prior anger for the situation in her bedroom’s put on hold. Here, in the medical bay, about to have her prosthetic installed puts her on edge.

Nervousness didn’t happen to her with enough frequency for her to consider it a routine experience. Getting pissed off on the other hand, did make her consider that she might have a teensy problem with controlling her temper. If that’s the case, Arsenal could still run and cartwheel.

> Prepping.

> I’ll need you to wear this.

Minty picks up the blindfold landing next to her. It’s torn from a scrap of fabric that’d probably come from one of Berym’s spare uniforms.

“Kinky,” She dryly comments. “Why can’t you knock me out and plug the arm in?”

> You need to be semi-conscious.

> Nerve alignment, proper fitting, minute tweaks, all that jazz.

> Can’t do that if you’re out cold.

“I’m no stranger to pain, but is it going to hurt like a bitch?”

> Hollie hooked you up to a machine before she left.

> We can modify the dose as necessary.

> She wrote down the dosages here.

“What’s first?”

> Blindfolding you.

“So what’s the blindfold for?”

> Had to take off most my gear so that you don’t get infected by whatever’s hanging around me.

> Can’t have you watching me either.

> It makes me twitchy, and I don’t like being twitchy.

> Twitchy’s bad.

“That’s always a possibility, getting infected.”

> Should be low risk.

> I sterilised myself and the room’s closed.

> Appreciate the effort I’m going to here for you.

“Is this your way of apologizing?”

> Actions speak louder than words.

> Ha Ha Ha.

“I want to feel something that’s not fucking pain.”

> Better not be me.

> There. 

> That better?

Minty snorts. “That’s fine. Besides, you’re too skinny. Couldn’t pack a decent punch even if you tried.”

> If you weren’t in the medical bay, I’d love to prove you wrong.

> Did you actually mean what you said about thanking me back there?

“Before you went ahead and told me that you were planning on ditching me? Yes, I meant it. Why?”

> Just curious.

> Not many people go for the whole ‘I don’t like being looked at’ shebang.

“What can I say, I have great taste in people.”

> A lot better than some people’s.

“Would you have let me thank you? I can do drinks instead, if that’s not what you’re into. As I said to Hollie, I can also make decent pasta.”

> I wouldn’t have minded.

> And I don’t drink.

> Pasta? Depends on if you put anything spicy in it.

“What’s that supposed to mean? The first one, that is.”

> I’m not like Ravs.

“You know Ravs?”

> Unfortunately.

“Ha! Most people would sell half their liver to get to personally know Ravs.”

> Sadly, I’m stuck with him.

> And Rythian.

“You ever paid attention to Dahl’s sex ed deal?”

> You cannot possibly be referring to that three week monstrosity that everyone has to attend or risk getting kicked out of recruitment and basic training.

“Duh.”

> That was a riot.

> I learned plenty of things about human nature that day.

> One of which is that humans will always fucking lose it whenever somebody says ‘penis’ out loud in a deadpan voice.

“Heh.”

> See?

“So, when’d you lose your V-card?”

> That’s classified.

“Was worth a shot, given that we’ve both seen each other in compromising positions.”

> I am working on a very delicate component of your arm right now.

> The wrong move could paralyse you permanently.

> Just saying.

“Anyone ever seen you naked before?”

> I blindfold people.

“Could you please put ‘just kidding’ after the joke? It’s really hard to tell if you’re joking or not.”

> I blindfold people.

> Just kidding.

> Better?

“Loads.”

> Why are you asking me all these questions about boning and Dahl?

“It’s called finding ‘common ground’.”

> If you wanted to know about any kinks of mine, just be honest about it.

> We don’t have anything to hide from each other.

> Much.

“Fine, do you have any kinks?”

> Don’t know, never experimented.

“I can help you with that.”

> Thanks.

> Does this mean you don’t want to lynch me?

“I dunno, I kind of still do.”

> That’s separate from the whole ‘kink’ deal, isn’t it?

“I would assume so.”

> Good to know.

“For a person who refuses to speak, you’re awfully chatty.”

> It’s either I keep talking or freak out over what I’m doing right now.

> Feel anything?

“Feels weird. Tingly, like pins and needles. Oh, you’ve put the plate on. Nice. I didn’t even notice. Here comes the arm, I guess.”

> That’ll be the prosthetic trying to calibrate itself with your severed nerves.

> I should have cut them more neatly so it won’t be that hard for it to calibrate.

> How’s that feel?

“Great! I’m loving it, look at my shiny new hand.”

> It’s running the calibrations now. 

> Do not look at me when I take off your blindfold.

“Pinky promise. Or what, you’ll stop moving?”

> Just follow the prompts on the monitor.

> No, I will stab you.

“Do I have to do this shit every single time my arm feels off? And sure, you can stab me anytime.”

> Sadly, yes. That shouldn’t be often, not unless you fuck up something on the inside.

> All done.

> I’ll you up on your offer when you’re not high.

“Nice. Thanks. Wow, I am as sleepy as fuck. Everybody should know that you’re  _ great  _ company.”

> I might have left the machine running for too long.

“Nah, ‘s fine.”

> I’m going to get dressed, get Hollie and then hide from her.

> Don’t move off the table.

“I’ll take the blame. I’ll just say that I got too distracted by your ass to remind you to turn off the machine.”

> I do agree that I have a very nice ass.

\--

Teep’s activities on Elpis can be divided into two categories: helping Rythian in the Vault and not helping Rythian in the Vault. Once Rythian’s completed his preparations in Tycho’s Ribs, he and Teep head back to the lift descending into Eleseer. It’s common sense that the two of them would camp out in Tycho’s Ribs rather than in Eleseer. 

One, the Guardians renew their vigilant defense of the Vault inside whenever the lift activates. Two, the Guardians don’t venture beyond Eleseer. The lift simply didn’t exist in whatever mind they possessed; this fact’s saved Rythian’s life on several close occasions. The Vault detected intruders and reacted accordingly.

After the tenth visit, Teep and Rythian are getting sick of encountering Guardians. Only after when they clear the whole of Eleseer does the Vault let up on its summons. That gives Rythian a brief window of opportunity in which to collect whatever information he wants, off the walls or the ceiling or whatever the fuck he’s interested in.

The last standing Opha selects a Putti from its belly, lobbing it right at Teep.

Teep’s sick of fighting Guardians. Guardians have been their opponents day in and day out. They’re down to their last rounds of pistol ammo (since a sniper rifle’s not much use inside here) when the Putti’s thrown.

Just  _ fuck  _ right off.

Rythian teleports to the Opha, right as Teep despawns their pistol to catch the Putti like they would a ball. Catching the Putti forces Teep backwards by half a metre. 

Perhaps the shock of being caught fries whatever mental circuits the Putti has. Teep’s perplexed by the lack of struggling for freedom. It remains in their hands, as docile as a pup skag which hasn’t learned yet that humans are food, and must be mauled. The pinkish jet stream beneath it fades, leaving it inert.

Meanwhile, Rythian executes the Opha in the head. He and Teep never talk about what happens to the dead Guardian’s bodies between visits. It’s like Eleseer resets itself behind their backs.

Rythian mutters something about ‘hating Guardians’ under his breath. He doesn’t see what Teep’s holding, not until Teep lets go of it. 

The Putti lurches up with an awkward spurt into the air, zig-zagging at crawling speed until it’s at eye-level with him. Rythian watches it for a moment, lowering his shotgun. He too, is almost out of rounds.

Taking the lone Putti down isn’t worth the waste in ammo.

“Why haven’t you killed it?” Rythian inquires. Puttis tended to divebomb while firing plasma shots or go in to dish out an explosive, suicidal move. This one is hovering by him, doing neither of those. All it’s doing is watching him.

> It’s adopted you as its parent.

“It has not!” Rythian snaps at Teep. “It’s the enemy!’

> This one shall henceforth be known as ‘Rythian Junior’.

“YOU’RE NOT CALLING IT THAT,” Rythian yells. Scowling, he waves a hand at it. “Go away, I killed your mother!”

The Putti watches him with its doll-like, serene features, saying and doing nothing.

“Come on, we don’t have time for this.” Rythian marches off into the inner areas of Eleseer. Teep glances at the Putti. It’s following them. Not pointing this out to Rythian, Teep shrugs.

It’s nice to have a Guardian around that isn’t out to kill them, especially if it’s bothering Rythian this much already.

\--

The Putti’s followed them up the lift back to Tycho’s Ribs, the first of its kind to do so. It’s not that bothersome of a presence. Teep quite liked having it around. 

It’s not because every single time Rythian catches sight of it the Putti drifting close, he scowls and storms off elsewhere. If he’s hoping to lose it by teleporting or staying out of its sight as much as possible, he’s got another thing coming.

It’s got a real knack for homing in on his location. Teep think it’s hilarious, watching it zoom from room to room after him. Rythian doesn’t think so, but then again, he doesn’t share the same sense of humor. Therefore, his sense of humor sucks.

No matter how much he claims that he’s annoyed by the Putti’s presence, he never shoots or raises a hand to it.

Perhaps the Putti doesn’t comprehend human speech. An aspect of the Guardians is that while they did bleed blood (albeit purple, oily in texture and smelling of burnt metal), there’s nothing remotely biological about them, as far as Rythian can care to hypothesize. Theoretically, Guardians didn’t have brains.

Guardian’s insides appeared to be some sort of artificial construct meant to replicate a biological one as closely as it could.

Once, Teep spent a disgusting but informative ten minutes trawling through a Guardian’s ‘insides’ using a sharpened knife and a spare pair of gloves. The purple shit refuses to come off when it’s wiped on a rag. Teep will just have to find a washing machine in Concordia and toss in the pair to see if that’ll do the trick.

Well, Teep’s not that worried when they head off to help Minty with her arm calibrations. Rythian won’t kill the Putti. He wouldn’t dare to admit that he’s secretly lonely, wanting company but unwilling to admit it (let alone to himself).

Teep suspects that it’s to do with missing Ravs. Rythian is doing an abysmal job of covering that up. Rythian also still bristles whenever Teep praises Junior for keeping an eye on him once they return.

Half a week later, Teep’s transferring the week’s supplies into the old Dahl building which they’ve claimed as their own temporary abode. Rythian’s taken the other shack. Neither of them keep the doors locked, lest the other need something.

Traveling together for months tended to wear down the walls of one’s innate sense of privacy.

The final barrier for Ravs and Rythian to truly know Teep is to see their face as it is. No wrappings, no goggles, no hood. 

Still, Rythian and Ravs know to knock before entering. After Rythian forgot to do so, he’s still jumpy around any doorframe, lest a throwing knife find itself there.

Today, Junior’s hovering by Rythian’s shack. The light in Tycho’s Ribs from the central floating structure keeps the place constantly lit with its flickering zaps. Teep could set a watch using those zaps as seconds.

If Rythian wants to sleep, he tacks a cloth over the windows of the Dahl building (also, Junior tended to peer through the musty glass, which ruins nodding off). If Teep wants to sleep, they, well, always try on the cot inside.

They had a long nap yesterday, not completely refreshing but it did the trick. They’re not dead on their feet today, which is all what they want.

There’s something different about Junior today. Junior will always maintain the same facial expression, a serene blankness. In the right light, Rythian claims that it’s creepy.

Teep thinks that Junior’s fine as it is. A familiar purple scarf is tied around Junior’s graceful neck, bunching up over its two stubby raptor arms. The arms wave back and forth upon spotting Teep, a welcoming sign.

> Rythian.

“Teep, you’re back?” Rythian sticks his head out of his shack. Teep’s gaze drifts to his neck. Rythian owns the one scarf, and it’s definitely not being worn by its owner as of that moment.

> Where’s your scarf?

“Junior’s borrowing it.” Rythian coughs into one hand. Sensing the smug air gathering around Teep, he defensively adds, “Look, it gets cold in here, and I felt  _ really _ bad for leaving them outside without a blanket.”

> Just let Junior inside when you’re sleeping.

“I did, once.” Rythian shifts on the spot, peering down at his own boots. “They kept snuggling into me on the cot. It was weird, because Junior’s really cold too.”

> Hang the heat module on Junior, that ought to help.

Rythian opens his mouth. He closes it, glancing sideways at Junior.

> And this is why I’m the smart one.

“Shut up,” He lamely says.

> Already there.

\--

\- // Ravs is no longer idle in ‘zylus’ guns brings all the bandits to the airfield’. // -

Ravs: you two’ve been quiet.

\- // Rythian is no longer idle. // -

Rythian: well

Rythian: we’ve been busy

\- //Teep is no longer idle. // -

Teep: yep

Teep: rythian adopted a baby

Ravs: rythian, is this true?

Rythian: ...yes

Ravs: congratulations! what gender?

Rythian: i

Rythian: don’t actually know

Ravs: well, it’s still a little too early to call it and there’s always time to let the kid decide later on

Rythian: no that’s not what i mean

Ravs: who’s the godparent?

Rythian: i havent even thought of that

Teep: i am

Ravs: mate, i’m the obvious choice here

Teep: no i am 

Ravs: no i am

Rythian: let's not argue about this

Rythian: you both can be the godparents

Teep: there can only be one

Ravs: what teep said

Ravs: im the better choice, times infinity

Teep: no i am, times infinity plus one

Ravs: wait how does that work

Ravs: rythian, would you trust teep to babysit

Rythian: well, teep’s already babysat a couple times

Ravs: how about i come up there and show that im the better babysitter

Rythian: have you found a house yet?

Ravs: no

Rythian: come up once you do and you can meet junior, i guess

Ravs: you called it ‘rythian junior’?

Rythian: it wasn’t me who did the naming!

Teep: speaking of which

Teep: i should be the godparent because i’m the better catch

Rythian: TEEP

Ravs: you can’t be the godparent because of that!

Teep: says the drunkard

Ravs: my lifestyle is not to be taken into account who should be the godparent

\- // Zylus is no longer idle. // -

Zylus: wait

Zylus: who had a baby?

Zylus: AND WHO CHANGED THE CHAT NAME?

\--

\- // Rythian is no longer idle in ‘daddy rythian’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘teep is not allowed to name things ever again’. // -

Rythian: how do you get a baby to sleep

Rythian: asking for a friend

\- // Ravs is no longer idle. // -

Ravs: rythian, you’re not fooling anyone

Rythian: alright, junior’s been headbutting me in the chest for about ten minutes now after they’ve eaten

Ravs: burp the lil fella

Rythian: uh

\- // Teep is no longer idle. // -

Teep: LOL

Rythian: fuck the shut up teep

Rythian: i mean

Rythian: shut the fuck up teep

Teep: been there

Teep: done that

Teep: how tf would ravs know how to take care of a baby

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘teep is amazing at names, and ravs is banned from godparenting’. // -

Ravs: large clan back home

Ravs: used to babysit heaps and got babysat myself

Teep: ravs may be more qualified but i got here first

Ravs: you can’t use first to claim godparenting dibs!

Ravs: actually that’s how i learned how to bartend

Ravs: my aunt and uncle used to run a pub

Ravs: helped out a lot so long as no cops were around

Teep: nobody wants to hear your life story

Ravs: rude!

\- // Ravs has changed the chat name to ‘teep sucks at names, and teep is banned from godparenting’. // -

Rythian: it actually worked, junior’s stopped headbutting me now

Teep: i saw through the window

Teep: it was one of the greatest things ive ever seen

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘ravs sucks all the things, and ravs is banned from all godparenting’. // -

Rythian: laugh it up all you want

Rythian: youll be asking me for tips when its your turn to babysit

Rythian: isnt it really late where you are, ravs?

Ravs: it is

Rythian: why are you awake

Ravs: ‘doing’ something ;)

Teep: we don’t want to know

Ravs: wasn’t going to tell you

Ravs: besides, it’s kind of personal

Teep: obviously

Teep: you want us to ask you

Rythian: no its okay, you don’t have to tell us

Ravs: it’s personal and important business

\- // Ravs has changed the chat name to ‘i’m a great sucker, fyi, and teep is also banned from all godparenting too since we can’t have nice things’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘ravs confirmed for big sucker, and so is zylus’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘please stop changing the chat name’. // -

\- // Ravs has changed the chat name to ‘please stop changing the chat name or else what ;)’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘please stop changing the chat name or else i’ll cry’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘please stop changing the chat name and lets make rythian cry’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘no’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘yes’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘no’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘yes’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘no’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘yes’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘no’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘yes’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘no’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘yes’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘no’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘yes’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘no’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘yes’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘no’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘yes’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘no’. // -

\- // Teep has changed the chat name to ‘yes’. // -

\- // Ravs has changed the chat name to ‘no’. // -

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘yes’. // -

Teep: looks like somebodys crying tonight

Rythian: THAT WASN’T FAIR

Rythian: RAVS

\- // Ravs is idle. // -

Rythian: dammit

Teep: don’t swear in front of junior

Teep: youll set a terrible example

Rythian: you already are

\--

\- // Ravs is no longer idle. // -

Ravs: Daltos?

Ravs: I know you’re awake.

\- // Daltos is no longer idle. // -

Daltos: ravs, i thought i told you not to call me

Daltos: that includes contacting me on here

Ravs: Can we talk?

Daltos: no

Ravs: Avoiding me isn’t going to make it away.

Daltos: it will if i keep trying

Ravs: It didn’t work for Zylus.

Daltos: stop

Daltos: dont mention his name

Daltos: in fact just stop talking altogether you fucker

Daltos: stop being so

Daltos: fuck

Daltos: whats the word for 

Daltos: fucking

Daltos: annoying

Daltos: that’s the word

Ravs: Stop fucking cursing, put away the booze and go to sleep.

\- // Daltos has changed the chat name to ‘i do what i want’. // -

Daltos: no

Daltos: why don’t you go and have a smoke

Daltos: see what it’s like

Ravs: I don’t like smoking, and I don’t like it when you smoke either.

\- // Ravs has changed the chat name to ‘go to bed’. // -

Daltos: im doing both right now

Daltos: try and stop me

\- // Daltos has changed the chat name to ‘you’re not the boss of me’. // -

\- // Ravs has changed the chat name to ‘i could be’. // -

\- // Daltos has changed the chat name to ‘yeah but you’re not’. // -

Ravs: I’ll tell Arsenal to confiscate your shit.

Daltos: he couldnt come up here even if he wanted to

Ravs: he will if i tell him that you stole from his secret stash again

\- // Ravs has changed the chat name to ‘go the fuck to sleep’. // -

Daltos: you got me

Daltos: are you  _ happy _ now

Daltos: see you never again

Ravs: I’ll drop by the frigate later in the week.

Ravs: We can talk then.

\- // Daltos has changed the chat name to ‘fuck you ravs’. // -

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. //-

Ravs: Arsenal, where’s Daltos?

Arsenal: In his room, napping.

Ravs: Thanks.

Arsenal: Minty says thanks for the card. It was very artistic of you.

Ravs: Oh, no problem. I just wish I wasn’t so busy so that I could come up and visit.

Arsenal: You er, need to talk?

Ravs: Mighty kind of you to offer.

Arsenal: I just figured I’d ask since you don’t look so happy.

Ravs: Househunting’s tough.

Arsenal: You’re in a hotel now, right?

Ravs: That’s right, in a little place called ‘Oasis’. Fantastic owner.

Arsenal: Well, you could move into the frigate. We got a couple of spare rooms I could fix up for you. It’ll be all yours unless you want roommates?

Ravs: Thank you, but no, he doesn’t want me to actually live here.

Arsenal: What? Why not? This place is great- well, except for the hot water cutting in and out, the shitty ventilation, the rain coming in through the roof, no privacy in the main showers but I think he’d let you use his shower if you ask-

Ravs: The frigate is great, but those other lieutenants of his, I don’t like the look of them. Seem a bit too keen on having me followed whenever I turn up here.

Arsenal: Pfft, you talking about those two hiding behind the shipping container over there? Man, Hawker and Hurricane couldn’t follow a fly even if it had big flashing lights strapped to it.

Ravs: Ha! No, no, leave them alone, I like it, it makes me feel like I’m an idol with paparazzi.

Arsenal: Sorry, I can’t let your ego get any bigger than it is. Minty’s orders.

Ravs: Alright, go ahead and ruin my fun.

Arsenal: Cant, I see you hiding over there! Next to Hawker and Hurricane!

Hawker: Aw man, what gave us away?

Arsenal: Cant did.

Hurricane: Thanks a lot, Cant.

Cant: Cant!

Arsenal: There, they shouldn’t follow you today. Um, Daltos said that you fought pretty badly last time.

Ravs: I came here to talk to him about that.

Arsenal: Good luck. Hope you can work things out.

\- // SKIPPING AHEAD TO SECOND PART OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

Ravs: Daltos! Are you awake yet?

Daltos: Scarface, I fucking said I was- oh. Ravs.

Ravs: Can I come in?

Daltos: ...Alright.

Ravs: How’s your face?

Daltos: Fine.

Ravs: Let me have a look.

Daltos: No.

Ravs: Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-

Daltos: It’s fine. Really.

Ravs: No, it’s not.

Daltos: I’m not mad anymore.

Ravs: Come here. 

Daltos: Well?

Ravs: It’s...pretty nasty. Right across your cheek too.

Daltos: I gave you one too.

Ravs: Bah, it’s not as bad as the one on my hip. Actually, it’s nice of you to give me one so that I’ll remember you always.

Daltos: Then why aren’t you mad at me?

Ravs: Mad at you?

Daltos: I thought you’d be angrier.

Ravs: I’d be stupid to let something as trivial as that affect me. And don’t say anything, you know what I mean.

Daltos: ...Ravs, I’m-

Ravs: You don’t have to say you’re sorry. We both are.

Daltos: You’re supposed to be angry.

Ravs: Well, I’m not.

Daltos: You’re supposed to  _ hate _ me.

Ravs: It takes a lot to make me hate someone but giving me a tiny scar ain’t it.

Daltos: Ravs, I cut you on the face.

Ravs: I cut you too, Daltos. I think we’re even.

Daltos: Well, it’s not a bad looking scar. It’s not going to detract from your hideous mug, that’s for sure.

Ravs: It makes you prettier.

Daltos: Where’s Jar Jar Bills- it’s full. Really  _ full _ .

Ravs: There’s enough money in the flirting jar to buy a place.

Daltos: Are you fucking serious?

Ravs: Yes!

Daltos: You know what this proves?

Ravs: What?

Daltos: You have no chill whatsoever.

Ravs: And whose fault is that?

Daltos:  _ Yours _ .

Ravs: I wanted to ask if you wanted to see the place I picked before I talk to the agent about buying it.

Daltos: That’s really fucking gay.

Ravs: This is coming from the person who has the largest  _ and _ gayest gang on the east coast.

Daltos: You’re damn right I got the largest and gayest gang on the east coast. I’m fucking proud of it too.

Ravs: I’ll ‘see’ you tomorrow then.

Daltos: Jar.

Ravs: Oh, for- we don’t need the jar anymore.

Daltos: But I like having it. It just proves that you can’t keep it in your pants.

Ravs: No need to rub it in.

Daltos: Ravs, there’s something else.

Ravs: Yes?

Daltos: You’re never going to give me Zylus’ location, no matter how many times I ask.

Ravs: You know perfectly why I won’t.

Daltos: If you see him...tell him to go and fuck himself.

Ravs: Okay, I’m not telling him that, he has feelings too, you know?

Daltos: Oh, I know.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

\- // Rythian has changed the chat name to ‘babyspeak achieved’. // -

Rythian: change of subject time

Rythian: junior’s talking to me!

Zylus: great! that’s a really big milestone.

Rythian: thanks

Rythian: it wasn’t easy

Rythian: they understand basic words now

Rythian: i think

Zylus: what words did you teach them?

Rythian: hello, bye, stay, go, fetch, roll over, yes, no, food, sleep, threat, come here, you know, easy stuff

Zylus: rythian?

Rythian: yes?

Zylus: are you sure your baby’s not a skag?

Rythian: we can’t get skags on elpis

Zylus: just checking

Zylus: easy mistake to make

Zylus: especially if a skag’s eaten a baby and crawled into the cot

Rythian: don’t be disgusting

Zylus: true story!

Rythian: no it’s not

Rythian: besides, skags wouldn’t understand the language i’m using on junior

Zylus: you can’t teach a baby swearwords!

Teep: says who

Zylus: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?

Rythian: i’m not teaching junior swearwords!

Teep: for funsies

Ravs: i got taught swear words when i was a kid and that never did me any harm!

Teep: that would explain so so much

Ravs: stfu

\--

Rythian: we should tell ravs and zylus the truth soon

Teep: nah

Rythian: what?

Rythian: why not?

Teep: i want to see their faces when they finally meet junior

Rythian: ...good point

\--

Rythian watches Teep toss the rubber ball into the depths of Tycho’s Ribs. He watches them for a moment.

Teep may not have facial expressions but their body language spoke for them. Rythian’s never worked out if it’s subconscious, the way they wanted to be read; anybody who spent a fair chunk of time in their presence learned to pick up on telltale signs.

Right now, Teep’s content. He’s never seen them truly happy. 

The ‘happiness’ that they express can be derived from the deliberate infliction of malice: a headshot worthy of a smug mention, wielding a knife with the precision of a surgeon, to pistol whipping an unsuspecting opponent when it’d be far easier to put them out of their misery with a shot to the face.

Teep’s frame lacks any of the tension that typically accompanied them places. 

Junior rockets after the ball, corkscrewing through the air. A heartstopping moment later, Junior returns with the ball caught between its raptor-like arms. The ball’s dropped at Teep’s feet, scoring a small pit in the sand. Junior chirrups.

Teep picks up the ball, drawing their arm back. The ball sails higher, towards the top of the drop leading from Vorago Solitude. Junior has no problem chasing after the ball, bringing it back again.

Is it weird that Rythian’s a tiny bit proud of Junior’s progress?

He has news to give, before he gets sidetracked by Junior’s leaps and bounds in interactions regarding humans. Rythian got the sense that Junior adopted  _ him,  _ not the other way around. All he can do is put off the inevitable.

As Minty would bluntly put it, ‘the jig’s up, son’.

When Rythian approaches, Teep catches the ball Junior drops into their outstretched hand. Junior swivels to watch Rythian too. A greeting’s chirped, a series of sharp, high-pitched whistles and gurgles. Rythian chirps back as best as he can when he’s severely limited by his own static, human vocal chords.

“What is it?” Teep’s picked up on his reluctance.

“I finished my studies,” Rythian announces. Junior drops height, nudging Teep’s hand. Teep tosses the ball towards the inner sanctums of Tycho’s Ribs. Junior zooms after it, a pale, bean-shaped shape against the dark metal of the structures around them.

“What’d you find out?”

“The Vault of the Queen matches up with what I studied.” 

Saying it out loud feels surreal. Rythian’s so sure of it that he must be hallucinating, or drunk out of his mind. Never would he have dreamed of this moment becoming reality.

Combined with what he’d seen from that fragment back in the Sentinel’s dimension, the path is painfully obvious. He knows what he must do.

“Now what? We don’t have any reason to stick around here.”

“We open the Vault of the Queen.” Rythian grins, under his scarf. The fragment’s vision can’t possibly lead him astray.

Junior appears, dropping the ball in Rythian’s hand this time. He catches it, tossing the ball to the other end of Tycho’s Ribs, Junior already tracking it down.

“What do we do about…?” Teep inclines their head.

Rythian closes his eyes. He knows. Of course, he’s gambling with what he has planned for Junior. It’ll all depend on whether Minty cooperates. 

He could start packing at least. Teep departs to finish up the last of Concordia’s jobs, leaving him alone with Junior.

\--

> The fucker’s packed up all tight in the crate.

> It nearly ripped my hand off.

> Kraggon nests are not meant to be infiltrated by human beings.

“I’m paying you to do this, so what are you complaining about?”

> True.

> This comment that you wrote here in ‘delivery instructions’.

> How the fuck do you want me to carry out this ‘xo’ request?

“If you do it, I’ll tip you an extra fifty. But come here. Closer. Perfect, don’t move. You carry it out like  _ this _ .”

> ;)

\--

Bluari doesn’t question the ‘bursting at the seams and the tiniest bit wriggly’ backpack Rythian carries through Concordia’s gate. Teep accompanies Rythian. Bluari cheerfully informs (while expertly spinning a pistol in one hand) the two that Minty’s in her office as usual.

Minty glances up from the folder resting in her lap when the two enter her office. The smell of cigarette smoke hangs in the air. Her cigarette’s resting on an ashtray, beside a mug doubling as an emergency pen holder. Her prosthetic hand replaces the folder atop a swaying stack by her desk.

“You look like you’re ready to leave Elpis,” She observes. “How kind of you to drop by and say goodbye to everyone.”

“How’s your new arm?” Teep signs.

“Great.” Minty flexes it twice, showing off all the fingers and thumb by flashing them a thumbs-up. “It’s like I never lost it.” 

The neutral comment lacks any of the usual venom that’d backed up her words from several visits ago. She reaches to pick up her still lit cigarette, leaving it to dangle from the corner of her mouth.

“Thanks for all your help. A lot of folks are very grateful.” Minty remarks. She looks like she’s about to add something else, but appears to have second thoughts.

> Myself included. ;)

Teep closes the private message she sent them, remaining silent.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Rythian begins. 

He and Teep had agreed that he’d do the asking. He has a feeling that it’d have still worked out either way, given the lack of hostility between Teep and Minty after the whole amputation event. It’s unusual. 

Even when there’s no jobs in Concordia, Teep still made the trip when he knows that they’d rather be napping. They won’t tell him why, and Zylus doesn’t know. Junior as usual, hadn’t said much on the matter.

“What kind of favor?” Minty surveys him with those sharp eyes of hers. A smoke cloud escapes into the ventilation to be dumped outside.

“I need you to look after someone for me.” Here goes nothing.

“Alright.” Minty’s eyes stray to the strap of the bag that he’s hanging onto. Rythian instinctively hefts it closer to his body, cradling it as he would a precious parcel.

“They’re a little unusual,” Rythian warns.

“Can’t get any weirder than what bandits can look after,” Minty scoffs. “So spill, who or what am I looking after?” She slides out from behind the desk, gesturing to the bag in Rythian’s hands. “They in there? Better let them out before they suffocate.”

“Okay.” Rythian upends the bag. A clicking Junior tumbles out, whizzing up to hover behind Rythian. Minty stares for a moment. She takes her cigarette to stub it on the ashtray. A few thoughtful steps take her over to Rythian.

“This one of them Guardian things?” Minty drawls.

“Yes,” Rythian affirms, glancing at Teep. Teep shrugs. She’s taking this awfully well. Other people would be screaming or shooting at Junior by now.

Minty, though. Minty’s got a look of surprised curiosity on her face, and that’s when Rythian knows in his gut that he chose right. “What’s their name?”

“Rythian Junior,” He mumbles, leveling a half-hearted glare at Teep. Teep pretends not to see it.

She doesn’t snort or laugh when he says the name, which changes her from ‘tolerable’ to ‘cool’ in his books. “Any special needs?” Minty reaches over with her prosthetic hand to pat Junior. Junior shrinks away from her, the clicks speeding up to a furious whir that Rythian associates with a cry for help. Minty smirks.

“She’s alright,” Teep signs. Junior permits a gentle pat from her, their clicking fading to a low content purr.

Rythian takes a deep breath and launches into a rushed list, “Junior doesn’t really eat, drink or  _ sleep,  _ but really likes to play fetch, clicking along to songs-” He shuts up when Minty holds up a hand.

“Let me write all this down,” She says, picking up a book and a piece of paper. A metal clip affixes the paper to the book. Leaning on her desk, Minty finds a pen and stares expectantly at Rythian.

He continues, “Snuggles when it’s cold, recharging shields, pats on the head, being read to, eating the occasional moonstones-”

“Moonstones?” Minty raises an eyebrow. The pen scratches away at the paper.

“Yes, moonstones.” Rythian sighs. “It’s weird. Junior eats them, but doesn’t really…” He’s not about to say the word ‘poop’ or ‘fart’ out loud in her presence. Where the moonstones go once Junior digests (if that’s even possible) them, he has no fucking clue. “I’ll show you.” 

He retrieves a moonstone as large as a river’s pebble from a pouch on his belt. Junior spots it and cruises over to be level with his hand. Rythian pops it into Junior’s mouth. Minty nods at the lack of any visible signs of swallowing or digestion happening. A happy aura exudes from Junior.

“Moonstones shouldn’t be a problem, we more or less have a steady supply.”

“I don’t think Junior needs to eat, but maybe they just like to copy us.” Rythian catches himself nodding along to her, stopping himself. “That’s my theory, at least.” He hands over the rest of his moonstones, which she takes.

“Is that all?” Minty tosses her pen into the mug. The slip of paper’s detached and folded up. She tucks it into her coat.

“Take this too.” Rythian passes her the rubber ball that Teep had been using to keep Junior entertained for countless hours. Where the ball had come from, he doesn’t know. Minty leaves it on her desk.

“Junior can hang out in my apartment when I’m not busy. Does Junior get bored easily?”

“Well, no.” Rythian racks his brains for a suitable explanation. “Junior’s happy to wait in a corner or somewhere until you get back.”

“I’ll find something for Junior to do. There’s always a job or two here for someone,” Minty says. That’s reassuring to hear. Rythian always felt guilty about leaving Junior behind during supply runs. Junior’s always happy whenever he returns, clicking and examining him closely.

This is the first time’s let them tag along with him to anywhere that’s not Tycho’s Ribs or Eleseer. He’d driven very  _ cautiously _ , not wanting to spook Junior (hidden in the bag) with any reckless moves.

“Junior’s also learning our language, so try not to be too hard on them,” Rythian adds. He’s aware that the way Teep’s glancing at him tells him that he’s possibly being overbearing.

If he had more time, he’d work out how to take Junior with him back to Pandora. For now, Minty is the best solution that gives him the peace of mind. He can’t afford to get distracted while tracking down the Vault of his literal dreams.

“I’ll take good care of sonny here,” Minty reassures. Her gaze shifts to past Rythian’s shoulder. It returns to him a second later as she exits out of her HUD. “Zylus is here to pick you up. I’ll accompany you to the airfield.”

Rythian dumps all his spare supplies in Zylus’ apartment on the way over. He's forced to reorganize his inventory to keep what he’s taking. 

A single, loose sketchbook page flutters free when he stuffs the book back into his module. He’d made so many notes, a few of them featuring more rambling than usual in his attempt to get through the blocks of Eridian text. Maybe he’d even written some of them in his sleep. Whatever, he’ll look at them on the flight back to Pandora.

At the lift down to the airfield, Ravs and Zylus are waiting. Ravs spots Rythian and grinning, strides over to hug him. His hug lifts Rythian off the ground. Gasping for air, Rythian spies a new scar under Ravs’ left eye. Ravs doesn’t point it out, already chatting to Teep over Rythian’s shoulder.

“Nice to see you too, Teep.”

> What, did Zylus’ shuttle need an upgrade just to fit your ass on board?

> You took ages to get up here.

“Lots of things happened!” Ravs takes a moment to look fantastically smug. “I finally got a place of my own. Come and see it sometime.”

> Pass, it’s probably full of diseases.

Minty passes Teep a hover trolley. They wheel a large metal crate with two large holes bored in the lid into the lift. They sit on the crate, waiting patiently.

“I keep it pretty clean, you know,” Ravs retorts. He rolls his eyes. “Or else my other friend’ll get on my case about it.”

“You have other friends?” Rythian wheezes. He pats Ravs’ arm to tell him that he’d like to be put down.

“‘course I do! Been helping them out while you two were gone.” Ravs chuckles. “So who’s the godparent?” He also cheerfully inquires. He places Rythian back down.

Rythian straightens up, wincing. “Sorry, Minty’s godparent.” Seeing Ravs again in person somehow makes it feel like his world’s gone back to normal after Ravs’ absence had upset it.

Smirking, Minty waves at Ravs. Ravs examines her prosthetic hand, frowning. She punches him in the arm with it, rolling her eyes at his apparent concern. She also reaches around to slap his ass too. Ravs nearly crushes her in a bear hug in response. Chuckling, the two draw back with fond smiles on both their faces.

“How’s Elpis treating you?” It’s hard to mistake the warm affection in Ravs’ voice for anything else. Rythian busies with glancing around for Zylus. He’s not by the lift.

“Good, good, a bit quiet but I like the quiet life. I’m thinking of training my replacement soon. Got to retire at some point.” Minty chuckles. Her hand traces the new scar under Ravs’ eye. “Though Junior here’ll fix that soon enough.”

“I wouldn’t call losing an arm ‘quiet’,” Ravs points out, taking her hand to kiss it. Minty yanks her hand out of his, earning a sigh and a grin from Ravs.

“Look, if you want to kiss me, do it properly!”

“I’d be happy to kiss you wherever…”

Rythian checks on Junior, only to find them being kept company by Zylus. Zylus is giving Junior a polite handshake, the expression on his face delighted.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you,” He says with polite seriousness. “You’re taller than I expected.” Junior gurgles at him, vigorously waving a claw at him.

Spotting Junior, Ravs exits the small talk with Minty to join Zylus. “Hello, you must be Rythian Junior!”

His large hand takes the tip of Junior’s clawed appendage to shake it with a gentleness that doesn’t help Rythian’s opinion of him one bit.

Junior purr-clicks out the equivalent of a ‘hello’ in alien speak. Or so that’s what Rythian interprets it as. What he knows of the Eridian language (or a Guardian’s mimicking) is that it must rely on other cues, pitches and anatomy that his anatomy doesn’t have. Junior could be calling Ravs something downright rude, and he or Rythian wouldn’t know.

Ravs gives a sage nod like Junior’s just let him in on some profound secret. “I don’t know what you said, but it’s nice to meet you too.”

“I agree,” Zylus says, smiling.

“Okay, say ‘Ravs’,” Ravs brightly says to Junior. Junior responds with a series of short clicks. “No, no, there’s more of an ‘rrr’ sound to it.”

“You’re not allowed to each Junior your name yet, you have to teach Junior to say Rythian’s first!” Zylus objects.

Ravs and Zylus are handling this unusually well. It’s probably for Rythian’s sake. Still, he’s blessed with having met decent folks on his travels. He’s proud to call them his friends.

“You’re not leaving Junior behind, are you?” Zylus anxiously asks Rythian.

And now here comes the hard part. Rythian brings himself to nod.

“Pandora’s no place for a tyke like you,” Ravs says to Junior. “Best to have Junior stay here with Minty.” That latter sentence is directed at Rythian.

“Is Minty looking after Junior?” Zylus peers at Minty, clearly skeptical of her caretaker abilities.

“I can vouch for her,” Ravs automatically says.

This causes her to raise an eyebrow, pushing her hat up so that she can stare at him. “Well I’ll be, either Ravs just vouched for me or I’m dreaming.” Minty smirks (or grins).

“My vote of confidence is perfectly valid,” Ravs says, restarting the banter with Minty.

The five and Junior descend in the lift. Zylus carries the bag of mail that Minty’s given him slung over one shoulder. Ravs catches up with her the whole way down. Teep remains silent when Rythian glances at them. He swears that they’ve been watching Minty, more so than unusual attention.

The crate that Teep sat on earlier is tied down in the ship’s cargo hold. Rythian’s decides that he doesn’t want to know what’s in it. 

There’s a giant sticker with ‘LIVE CARGO, FRAGILE, PLEASE HANDLE WITH CARE’ on it. Scratching noises come from inside of it. There might have been some growling whenever someone edges past it. It’s especially the case when Teep parkours over it to reach the aisle.

Bobbing forwards, Junior tries to fly into the shuttle’s interior, which Rythian blocks with an outstretched hand. Junior pauses, trying to sidle past.

“You’re not coming with me,” He starts. “It’s too dangerous where I’m going.”

Junior regards him with typical blankness. A click, questioning, makes Rythian blink. He nods, closing his eyes. He tries to sound firm. “I’m sorry. I’ll come back one day.”

There’s no point in swearing on it. He doesn’t know what’ll happen once he reaches the Vault and does what he needs to do. The vision had ended with the Vault’s second opening.

Junior falls silent, rather than beginning to frantically click, purr or making any other assortment of sounds that they typically used to try to communicate to him. Junior bobs forwards, falling sideways to hide under the front of his scarf. He reaches up to hug Junior.

It’s like during all those other times that he’d tried to sleep and failed. The flashbacks and the nightmares made sure of that. Tucked up against his chest, Junior had done what Ravs had (and what Teep had tried to do but couldn’t), keeping him safe in those late hours.

Rythian’s hand finds Junior’s head, giving an affectionate pat. Junior’s grown on him, he has to admit. He’s not proud of his initial attitude at first, considering the Putti as a pest to be exterminated. He’s glad that he’s changed his mind.

He’ll miss Junior.

There’s a way that he can help the tough transition. Rythian reaches up to his own scarf, carefully shredding a long strip off one end. He’ll trim it back to normal later (or ask Nilesy to).

“Here.” When Junior clicks curiously at him, Rythian carefully ties the scarf around the Putti’s neck. “You won’t be cold when you wear that.”

Junior’s shuddering, fleeing to Minty’s side, whole body shaking from side to side. Rythian steps back into the ship. Zylus closes the hatch, striding to the front of the ship.

“We are now beginning take-off procedures, so please take a seat…” His warning begins (a sniff following after like he too, is affected by Rythian saying goodbye), but Rythian’s hardly paying attention as he buckles himself in.

Past the window, Minty’s retreating to the lift, one arm slung over Junior’s (scarfed) back. As the ship rockets along the runway, the two grow smaller and smaller, becoming miniscule dots on Elpis’ dark grey scarred face.

Rythian leans back in his seat, letting his hands rise to his eyes. Ravs leans over to sling an arm around his shoulders. Teep turns to the window, watching Helios as they untangle their headphones from the knot that’d formed overnight.

\--

Rythian’s impatience to leave right away is hampered by readjusting to life on Pandora. Teep’s been through the whole business more times than they’d care to keep count of. Zylus is generous to let Rythian, Teep and Ravs crash at his place during the period.

It begins when Rythian faints five minutes after stepping out of the spaceship. Alarmed, Ravs catches Rythian in his arms. He wakes up on Zylus’ couch. Zylus and Ravs are peering worriedly at him.

“What happened?” Rythian sighs, feeling a wet cloth soak his forehead. Ravs’ hand is holding it in place.

“You passed out,” Ravs says. Rythian moves to knock Ravs’ hand off his forehead. He lets his hand pick up the bit of scarf with a torn end instead. Somebody’s removed his coat to hang it on the end of the couch.

“I can fix your scarf for you,” Zylus offers. “And you should probably stay down. My mom says that readjusting to gravity takes a while so you’ll feel a bit off until you get used to it again.” It’s the first Zylus has ever spoken of his family. He sounds fairly matter-of-fact in spite of passing on advice from somebody who he’ll never see again.

“Where’s Teep?” They’re not anywhere in the room, if they’re not responding to current events.

“Went to go sell some stuff, and deliver something.” Ravs helps Rythian sit up, handing him a glass of water. Rythian tosses his scarf over to Zylus.

Zylus sits down and begins to pick at it. “Do you have any idea what they’re delivering?” He asks.

“Not a clue,” Ravs says. “They said ‘your mom’ when I asked, which was  _ rude _ .”

Outside in the pawn shop, Teep passes a blonde woman with blue highlights in her hair. Teep’s too busy counting the money gained from selling the batch of moonstones on Pyrionflax’s behalf to notice her.

The crate that Teep’s been paid to deliver is also now tied down in the back of a technical (Ravs once again proving his worth in moving heavy objects, with Zylus lending a bunch of rope).

Minty fucking owes them one for this.

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Arsenal: Minty, Minty,  _ Minty,  _ oh beautiful owner of my heart _ ,  _ I love your  _ boner _ .

Arsenal: It was a nice touch having the hot Vault Hunter kiss and hug me.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Daltos: Where’d you run off to this late?

Ravs: Oh! You’re awake. Do you want to eat something?

Daltos: It’s fine, I stole some of your hot chocolate.

Ravs: Bastard, that was my last packet. Move over, I want to sit down.

Daltos: You smell like blood. Nice.

Ravs: I’ll shower in five. Feels good to sit down after all that walking.

Daltos: What happened?

Ravs: I went out.

Daltos: Where? Help yourself to my mug, it’s still half full.

Ravs: Oasis. This is good, it’s still warm.

Daltos: You went back to the hotel?

Ravs: Yeah.

Daltos: ...What happened?

Ravs: Some lowlives were picking on my friend.

Daltos: Did you kill them?

Ravs: No.

Daltos: Gasp. 

Ravs: That was the most sarcastic gasp I’ve ever heard.

Daltos: Not like you to leave them alive.

Ravs: You taught me that leaving someone to crawl in the dirt’s more entertaining, and it was. I owe you one for that.

Daltos: You’re welcome- get your hand off my hand.

Ravs: Your hands are very  _ warm _ . You know what else is very warm right now? ...Daltos, I will throw Jar Jar Bills off the pier.

Daltos: Ravs, you can’t do that! The jar’s the best idea I’ve ever had.

Ravs: It’s the worst. I’m getting rid of it.

Daltos: You owe me a jar.

Ravs: How about I write you an I.O.U.?

Daltos: Yeah, fine- not that kind of I.O.U., though.

Ravs: Keep it, and you can cash in on it  _ anytime _ ,  _ anywhere _ .

Daltos: Can I just get a normal I.O.U.?

Ravs: Of course you can.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

When asked, Ravs isn’t tagging along. He says that he’s got other commitments. This disappoints Rythian, but not for long. Finally, he can be on his way. Zylus remains in T-Bone Junction. He does promise to check in on Junior whenever he heads off to Elpis and time permits it.

That leaves Teep. Teep’s nicked the blueprints for the Stingrays and had someone modify them to function on Pandora. It’ll make traveling significantly easier, with where Rythian intends to go.

The journey to the Vault will have to be via foot and Stingray. Rythian traces the coordinates in his mind. They’ve been permanently burned there by previous events.

Returning’s harder than leaving.

After taking the Fast Travel to a remote town (so remote that threshers are considered a local delicacy), Rythian and Teep spawn the Stingrays in the dead of the night and set out.

The two don’t really care that anybody’s seen them. It’s not unusual for Vault Hunters to pass through unknown parts where humans didn’t dare go. It’s a part of what contributed to the overall reputation as being adventurers.

Teep and Rythian camp under the stars when it gets too late to keep going, or when the heat of the desert grows too intense for the Stingrays. During the downtime, Rythian works on his notes. Teep maintains their inventories, supplies and weapons. The two don’t need to talk much, the silence preferable.

He wonders what they’re listening to on their headphones. He’d never taken Teep to be a music type of person, or someone who listened to books being read out loud. Keeping his observations to himself, Rythian puts his head down, sketching away his vision in pencil. 

Frustrated that he can’t commit the vision to paper, he nearly tears the page in half when rubbing out the imagined entity in the Vault. He tries to sketch Teep, only for Teep to move to the other side of the tent, back turned to him. Well,  _ fine _ .

Annoyed at his sketch being thwarted, he gives up and works on filling out the sketches of Ravs and Zylus, expanding on the quick ten minute doodles capturing the two’s basic expressions.

He also reads, avoiding passages that he’d read out loud to Junior. Every update Minty sends, he reads, sharing the photos with Teep. It keeps the two grounded, to know that there’s people out there remembering and missing the two of them.

\--

If Teep’s surprised by the canyons that rise in the middle of the desert, they don’t show it. Rythian slows the Stingray so the fans don't kick up as much of a trail.

It’s the middle of the night, Elpis’ moonlight sketching fuzzy outlines of sand past the canyons. It’s endless desert out here. Rythian had timed his arrival perfectly. If it’d taken him this long to leave, it’d take roughly the same amount of time to come back.

The canyons stop the sand from filling in the excavation site, the heavy wind carrying whatever it could out. Rythian gets off the Stingray at the mouth of the canyons, as with Teep.

From there, the two proceed on foot. The red, brown and orange of the canyons are painted over with darker colors, blues and purples. Here and there, Eridian ruins peek above them in archways and pillars. Rythian toggles his night vision to account for the glowing stones that form the Eridian’s preference for elegant curves, angles and dips that’s their trademark.

Skeletons scatter the ground in front of the Vault entrance. Shivers crawl up his spine. When he blinks, the bodies are uniformed and bleeding, rather than decaying, lifeless and soon to be dead figures. A tightness encircles his throat, squeezing a warning. 

Here is where the past and future fuse into one, like the fragment had shown him: this is the present,  _ his  _ present, and Teep’s present. It would have been Ravs’ too.

To Rythian’s left, there’s the power station and armory. To his right lies the dorms and living facilities. Digging machines are rusting, long laid to rest. Nothing moves, aside from the wind far above his head, scattering motes of sand down. Dust cakes everything, a prudent reminder that it’s all exactly as he’d left it.

Even the circles formed by spent bullet rounds hitting the ground are almost perfectly preserved.

The desert air here is thin, freezing from the night. It’s also drier, making him feel like he’s breathing in a lungful of grit. He can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or because that they’re about to venture into a place where no human’s tread in years. 

The last footsteps to leave this place were his. It’s remarkably fitting how the first footsteps to return are his.

He and Teep pick their way over, leaving the bodies be. The dead shouldn’t be disturbed. Everywhere else is free game. Here, respect is due (and he tries not to think about how he’s about to make them roll in their graves with what he intends).

Rythian drifts near the outdated Fast Travel Station, surprised that it’s still functional, rising to meet his hand. That’s Atlas quality for him. This particular Fast Travel Station has its signal hidden, encrypted by long-lost algorithms and programs. He wonders if Hyperion knows it’s still here, now that Atlas is gone.

Best not to use it. He and Teep have proven that if they can get to the site on their own, they can leave the same way.

Nature will take back what it’s owed, though his instinct tells him that nothing will ever grow here because of  _ her  _ presence continually leaking through dimensions.

Teep’s examining the loose piles of sand gathered by the entrance at the base of the pillars. This sand is different, a pale yellow like sandstone, finer and looser. It tumbles out of Teep’s hand like it belongs in a glass blown hourglass sitting on a distinguished professor’s desk.

Rythian leaves them to their examination to check on his thesis. Good, it’s still buried. He makes his way back to Teep before Teep can figure out his whereabouts.

“Let’s go.” His voice is a taut whisper. Teep rises, dusting their hand free of clinging sand.

He eyes them, wondering if they’d snuck away to frisk the armory of its last surviving Eridian made gun. They watch him in return. He hadn’t heard them move, so they can’t have. It’s also possible that Teep will lie to him if he asks, so he refrains.

Together, the two Vault Hunters enter the Vault. Two very different people leave.

\--

He’s following his memory’s footsteps, retracing a path he’s walked a hundred times. In his sleep, that number’s closer to a hundred thousand, his dream ending abruptly whenever he reaches the Vault door, always leaving him disappointed and drenched in a cold sweat. 

Above him, high ceilings slope and angle oddly, following the aesthetic back on Elpis. The patches of darkness are broken up by the conduits set into the walls, floor and columns. Pale light blues dominate the inside of this inhuman space.

Traces of former human activity exist in the form of Atlas tech scattered along the sides. A crate yet to be plundered of ammo rounds, a light fixture with the bulb blown out from a stray gunshot, snapped cables trailing its insides, a cigarette box spilling squashed stubs and handfuls of ash, a smashed coffee mug, everywhere he looks, there are painful reminders of his former life.

These halls once teemed with activity, scientists and soldiers scrambling back and forth. The project had been one of Atlas’ more ambitious undertakings, established on Pandora during the golden age of Vault Hunters and Vault research.

Excitement and pride had been the prevailing moods. Even the soldiers sent here from the east coast couldn’t help contributing to the work, helping out with odd jobs and excavations. The resulting nostalgia’s like biting his own tongue, bitter and it makes him wish that things had turned out differently.

One by one, the other projects had gone dark after this site had fallen. After this Vault’s opened, he’ll go and see what happened to the others. Prior to erasing his own project’s existence, he’d dug up a list of coordinates (and only one’s etched them into his own memory, like a curse purposefully aimed at himself).

Teep nudges him in the elbow when he’s stopped in the middle of the hallway. Their touch is a jolt to his system. Rythian flinches, remembering that he’s not alone down here. His eyes are their own light, staring at Teep.

They give him a seemingly concerned look. Rythian shakes his head. It’ll be okay. He’s doing what’d needed to be done years ago.

He has no idea how long the two of them walk for, side by side, deeper and deeper into the Vault. 

There aren’t any markers as to where the central chamber lies. When he’d been younger (and so naive), he’d gotten turned around in circles, owing to the identical nature of the hallways. Fifteen minutes became one hour, and one hour could be doubled in the blink of an eye.

Rythian lets his intuition lead him to the central chamber, his gut pulling restless somersaults and backflips. 

Halfway there, he pauses, massaging his forehead with both hands. Down here, it’s harder to think. The entire space presses against him, like reality’s trying to convince him that he’s not supposed to be here by making his being question itself.

The soldiers (even the veterans) didn’t come down here often, calling it ‘the mindfuck central’.

He turns his head to see how Teep’s handling the shift- Teep’s not behind him. Or beside him. Or ahead of him. They’d been walking right by him ten seconds ago, and it’s a single corridor he’s in.

His already unsettled gut twinges at the loss of his dear friend. Teep wouldn’t randomly wander off in a place like this. 

Swallowing, Rythian forces himself to turn, facing the door to the central chamber. They’ll find him. So close to  _ her,  _ the whispers bypass his skull and assault his brain, trying to find a crack to slip into. There’s far too many of them to try to translate. Besides, most of them are instructions to the Guardians.

(waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait _ WAIT _ -)

Rythian grabs the Vault Key dangling around his neck with one hand. His other hand raises to touch the door. Before he can touch the metal, the door symmetrically splits to admit him.

Someone’s expecting him.

He strides down the ramp towards the platform suspended in the middle of the chamber. The whole room is stretched out, dwarfing the Sentinel’s crystal one. 

It’s the largest room in the entire Vault. Viewing balconies allow the space to feel more open rather than restrictive, owing to the Eridian shield (powered by unknown means) above him keeping this isolating space invisible, hidden and cut off from the world outside.

An immense circular door takes up one wall, the size of a frigate’s cargo hold. The symbol of the Vaults is carved into it. A bridge connects the platform to the rest of the floor. Underneath the platform is a mosaic (with a name spelled out in Eridian script) depicting the being imprisoned in the Vault: The Queen.

Empty eyes watch him. He knows that he’s not alone. Of course, she’d be watching him too, with hungry eyes and a body trapped in another dimension. Her powers have always been capable of watching whoever she chose.

In this Vault, her wardens permit her that one freedom. Her wardens had probably never expected the arrival of humans, though.

He’s on the platform with no memory of crossing the space. Set in the platform is a plinth and a pillar, constructed out of the same indestructible material as everything inside the Vault.

A slot for the Vault Key is all that’s on the pillar. Nobody, not even him, could fuck it up a second time.

Rythian pages through his memory for an ancient language that he’d used only a few months ago. “I seek a deal with you, Queen.” He keeps his voice polite and indifferent, like there are other entities he can contact as he pleases.

She’d always admired that arrogance, boasting a streak of her own.

A dark whisper, drowning all the others, filters into his mind like a flood prone river winding its way down a mountain. Once, he’d balked at interacting with such an eldritch voice. He still does. The difference is that now that he’s older, he can outwardly pretend that he’s not wanting to drop to his knees and  _ beg _ for her wisdom.

“You seek knowledge.” The whisper contains a croon, draconic and low, almost approving in its own way. It almost crushes his ability to remain standing.

“I do, nothing more and nothing less.” Rythian watches the Vault door, his heart twitching in his chest.

He’d spent hours trying to phrase his request. The keeper of all Eridian knowledge has had eons to perfect the subtle nuances of language, seeking out loopholes and paradoxes to exploit for her own gain. The first opening had proven that.

“Open the Vault, and you shall gain all the knowledge that you seek.” She needs no time to consider the deal.

He spends a moment parsing her words for any hint of a pending betrayal. “Very well.”

Rythian retrieves the Vault Key from its hiding place 

around his neck, slipping the nail-sized object into the space on the pillar. It slots in, becoming one with the Vault. All the carvings in the room glow a vivid purple, staying that way.

Pylons set into the corners of the rooms begin humming, the sound competing to unnerve him as much as the whispers still passing through his head. The furthest and smaller ones begin to power down, emitting a low whine like a generator running its course.

Guardians flit into the room, each bearing a staff. In the dark, they stand out like smaller versions of the Sentinel, alien and otherworldly. Rythian remains on the platform, fighting the impulse to draw a gun and open fire. The obedient Guardians form a circle, an audience awaiting the arrival of their once prisoner.

A grinding noise signals the locks holding the Vault door shut are beginning to loosen. For a second, a purple, alien eye set into a grotesque, reptilian head stares out at him. He blinks. The Vault door’s still firmly shut. Another pylon begins to whine once one goes dark.

A massive Guardian, one of the Reapers, three metres tall, extends a courteous hand to him. 

“Our deal, Rythian.” A pleased, silky purr empties into his mind.

He takes the hand. The deal is now sealed. The Reaper vanishes its staff, picking him up by the front of his shirt to leap across the platform to a wall. His stomach drops, bouncing up when it lands. The cloth-like flaps trailing from its hips flap around its skinny legs. 

No being could leap like that on such thin limbs, further proof of the Eridian’s mechanical ingenuity in creating the Guardians.

The wall has a set of ornate plates set into it, shaped to form a rectangular pyramid ringed by carvings. He’d studied carvings like these back in the Vault of the Sentinel and the scattered remains on Pandora. However, these carvings aren’t pink or as flat. The surface is a menacing purple, like the toxic, corrosive eridium pipes running through blighted land he’d passed once.

The plates morph together with a fluid movement, transforming into two eye-shaped branding spikes.

Rythian grabs onto the Reaper’s wrists, attempting to teleport the two of them away- he can’t  _ move _ .  _ She’s _ in his mind, holding his body hostage.

He can’t feel the Reaper’s ponderous steps towards the wall. In his chest, his distant heartbeat keeps thumping, watching the next pylon winding down across the room.

There’s a momentary pause. He stares into the Reaper’s dissonant masked face. Heat from the superheated eridium prickles his back with sweat through his coat and shirt.

“Rythian, you shall  _ have _ your knowledge.” In his head, she laughs.

The Reaper shoves him forward, impaling him on the wall. Rythian screams. This is  _ pain,  _ as he’s never felt it. The Reaper’s hands hold him down, stopping him from writhing, kicking, lashing out,  _ anything  _ to get away.

The metal’s burning away his coat, his shirt, his  _ skin,  _ evaporating blood, the eridium pouring like molten lava. It’s nothing like lava. As it splashes over his shoulders, his upper arms, it’s cooling, tripling the pain as it becomes solid.

She’s watching, enjoying the scene with a perverse sense of malice. This is her revenge, for denying her freedom years ago. Still, she hangs onto his mind, torturing him without having to lift a finger. There’ll be others to toy with, in time. 

It’s awfully fitting that he’s the first.

Another pylon flickers, sputtering out. A lock loosens on the door, sliding out with a stony rattle. There’s movement at the chamber’s entrance. Rythian’s blurring eyes pick out a hooded figure.

Teep stands at the chamber’s entrance, a bloody combat knife in one hand and a Guardian’s bladed staff clutched in the other. Their hood is down, their shattered goggles hanging around their neck.

Out of shimmery holes in space and from the balconies, Guardians begin to swarm Teep. Teep sheaths the combat knife, swinging the bladed staff in an arc. Pieces of Guardians splatter the floor, sheared in half by the staff.

A Guardian phases behind Teep, the staff raised to cleave them- Teep slings their own staff into the Guardian’s head. The Guardian topples, the head spurting liquid. The one behind it is spared, pinned to the wall, struggling to free itself.

Teep leaps free of the horde that curves to follow them like a flock of wrathful birds, sprinting towards the platform. They step on a flying Guardian’s head, tumbling towards the plinth. They snatch the Vault Key from its place as they pass.

Turning, Teep intercepts the Guardian attempting to skewer them, cutting off its arm with a slice.

The second-last pylon whines as it reverses, starting up again. Rythian can feel her fury. It batters his mind, nearly shattering him. Ironically, the pain is what saves him from passing out.

Facing the door, Teep raises the bloody hand that’s clutching the Vault Key. The ten remaining Guardians surrounding Teep begin to close in, halting when she turns her attention to telling the  _ useless _ machines to stand down.

Teep’s threatening to destroy the Vault Key. 

Rythian wants to laugh. There’s no way that the Vault Key can be destroyed. The stupid thing’s virtually indestructible, which is why he’s been carrying the blasted thing with him everywhere to stop it from being taken from him.

No matter how far he throws it, drops it into lava or how much he shoots it, it’ll always be there when he wakes, with nary a scratch or mark.

Teep’s free hand draws a pistol, pointing it right at Rythian. With the barrel, they gesture at him, then at the Vault Key. The barrel moves to point at Teep’s own head.

He doesn’t bother translating the biting remark she snaps at Teep. Teep doesn’t understand it, perhaps not caring. They repeat the series of gestures, more impatiently than before.

Of course, she can’t do anything to free herself. That includes picking up the Vault Key or instructing the Guardians to do so in her stead.

She  _ needed  _ a human to do it for her, of their own free will.

If Teep kills him and then themself while leaving the Vault Key where it is, she’ll be trapped for eternity, forever mocked by how close she is to freedom. Understanding that, she begins to talk to Teep, weaving her words like a net to draw them in.

Rythian sags on the wall, feeling her leave his mind. Free of her control, he spots Teep lowering the pistol without wanting to retreat into oblivion. The holes in the net grow smaller and smaller as she weaves them a proposal of their very own.

He tries to tell Teep, “No, don’t accept whatever she’s offering you!” His mouth refuses to work, wrecked by his earlier screaming.

Nodding, Teep lets their hand fall to their side. It’s over. They’re all doomed. Rythian closes his eyes, feeling the shards against and in his back press against his neck. If he can tilt his head back far enough, maybe it’ll pierce his skull and spine, making him useless as a puppet.

Gunshots fill the room. His eyes snap open to see the five Guardians dead. Teep wrenches one Guardian’s staff away and cuts another’s legs off. The next two have their limbs and head removed in the same manner. Teep shoots the last one, tossing the staff aside as they  _ move _ . Any still alive are gunned down.

He must have blinked. Teep isn’t capable of crossing spaces that instantly.

A knife’s blade is protruding through the underside of the Reaper’s throat. The Reaper thrashes, trying to throw Teep off. Teep hangs onto a shoulder spike, forcing the knife back and through the neck, separating the head from the body in one sawing motion.

The Reaper joins the others on the floor, neck stump leaking blood.

Rythian feels Teep helping him off the wall and onto a shoulder. He manages to turn his head upwards, adrift through a sea of pain and blood.

Blood pours down from Teep’s face, soaking the wrappings typically hiding their face. Beneath all that red, he can glimpse purple. There’s far too much damage there for him to see their features.

Closing his eyes so that he doesn’t have to scar himself with what he’d inflicted on Teep, Rythian drops his head.

It’s silent in the Vault. What sounds that he hears are from Teep’s walking. At some point, Teep resorts to carrying him across their shoulders. He doesn’t ask how they know the way out, what they’ve done with the Vault Key, or where they’re going.

All he knows is pain. The pain occupies his attention. He can’t focus, he can’t think, he can’t move, not while it’s present. He doesn’t want to. It’s all killing him.

If the universe is so kind, please put him out of his misery, before he can beg it to.

\--

Ravs puts down the drink he’d been nursing. It’d been Daltos’, before Daltos had wanted to talk. Daltos isn’t here anymore.

He wouldn’t blame Ravs for hating his guts from hereon out, because that’s what normal people did after these things went down, but Ravs isn’t normal people, because Ravs still  _ liked  _ him.

It is very, very hard to hate someone who’d shared his life in a way that very few people had. He’d been happy. He hopes that Daltos had been happy too.

He needs to stop moping, but that’s what the drinking’s for. It kept his hands occupied when his mind isn’t. If his hands aren’t, then he’ll call Daltos and then they’ll be repeating the same old song and dance again for the umpteenth time.

Next time might not be so neat.

It takes Ravs a few seconds to process that there’s a faint knocking at his door. Ravs stands up, a little unsteadily. He grips the table with his hands. It might be him. They’ll talk it out, or try to.

When he opens the door, he’s briefly disappointed to see that it’s Teep. And then he’s blinking, not so sure of what he’s seeing because Teep and Rythian are covered in massive amounts of blood. It fills the air, saturating his apartment.

Teep’s not wearing their goggles or their hood. Rythian’s slung over their shoulders, as still as a person who’s about to- Ravs takes Rythian into his arms, carrying him over to the kitchen table.

Teep moves everything off it, stealing the clean tablecloth Ravs had been saving for dinner (that’s fine, dinner’s not a plan anymore) and laying it out on top. Blood stains whatever Teep touches.

Rolling Rythian onto his back isn’t an option. Ravs leaves him on his side, shoving kitchen towels underneath the mess that’s his back to catch the heavier, fatter rivulets.

Rythian twitches, shaking his head. He murmurs something in a language that makes Ravs’ hair stand on end.

“What  _ happened _ ?” Ravs asks Teep, rounding on them. 

He might have seen Rythian get punched in the face, taken a bullet to the arm, and gone through the punishing grinder that’s life like everybody else but  _ this,  _ this is no normal wound, with no normal cause.

Teep signs, “The Vault happened, that’s what.”

He should have known. Already, the guilt at sitting that one out is worming its way into his gut. “What’s wrong with his back?” 

The bleeding’s not the worst part.

Broken shards of eridium stick out of the skin where flesh is burned a nauseating black. The smell’s not too pleasant either, reminding Ravs of a battlefield after the Pyro Nomads and Buzzards had swept over it to clear it of survivors.

“Get the shards out of his back,” Teep instructs. “I need to borrow your bathroom.”

“Yes, yes, by all means,” Ravs says, distracted by the immense gravity of the task that Teep’s imposed on him. He’s never going to get  _ all  _ the shards out.

He can sure as hell fucking try.

Ravs is vaguely aware of gathering everything he needs. A scratched jar (which he’d been meaning to return to Daltos as an apology; looks like Daltos will never get it back now) is retrieved from its hiding place behind the kitchen’s curtains.

From his bedroom, he fetches tweezers, rags and the homemade wreck of a medkit he keeps in the bedside table. It stocks items he uses to dig out bullets. Twice, he’s used it on himself. Once, on Daltos.

Fuck, he doesn’t have any painkillers on hand. He piles everything into his inventory (pulling a new tab up for it), opening the bathroom door.

He forgets to knock. Teep slams the door shut on him.

“Teep, you got any painkillers?” He shouts, rattling the doorknob. His hand grasps thin air. A packet flies into his hands before the door’s slammed shut.

Ravs examines the packet wrapped in torn plastic. Antibiotics, sterile shit, painkillers and a selection of bandages. The only objects that are missing are the longer, thinner bandages, a medical eyepatch and the tweezers.

Teep’s making it clear that Rythian’s the priority.

Ravs leaves an empty wooden bowl in front of the bathroom door, returning to the kitchen. Rythian’s trying to sit up with a groan that turns into a whimper.

Everything’s dumped onto a chair.

“Rythian, no, lie down,” Ravs coaxes.

Latching onto his hand, Rythian looks at him with glazed, terrified eyes. He mouths something. The words never reach Ravs’ ears. Whatever he’s trying to say, it’s sapping his strength, and he’ll need every bit of it for the incoming ordeal.

Ravs’ skeleton knowledge of lip-reading makes out the word ‘Key’. If Teep still has the Key (and they probably still do), it’s better that they keep hanging onto it.

“The Vault Key’s safe, Rythian,” Ravs reassures, forcing his voice to remain calm. His own panic might distress Rythian. “Teep’s got it.”

Rythian slumps back down onto his side, his eyes drifting shut. Ravs makes a mental note to take Vault Key off Teep and dump a box of grenades on top of it. No object can survive that kind of explosion, even if a bunch of fucking aliens made it.

Removing a bullet’s a matter best left to the professionals. Alternatively, leave it to someone who’s done it on twenty-five separate occasions while  somewhat drunk or half-asleep (or both).

Sterilizing the tweezers in water takes ten minutes. While the pot boils, Ravs fills a small dish with the last of his rubbing alcohol.

Rythian’s shirt is a goner, even without Ravs cutting it up with scissors. All the blood makes the pieces sticky, forcing Ravs to peel them off like he’s trying to remove a label without it leaving a sticky residue on a surface. Back muscles bunch up from a poorly suppressed flinch, shards clinking. The scraps are discarded onto the towels.

The coat might survive in the hands of an excellent tailor. All of Rythian’s stuff (coat, digistruct modules, scarf, trinket) is piled into a cardboard box, out of the way.

Ravs’ fingers wind their way under Rythian’s sweat and blood drenched head and hair. Rythian sits up to accept a glass of water, a feeble hand finding Ravs’ hand to tug it closer to his mouth. 

He coughs, water spilling down his front. Ravs lets him drink as much as he can handle without choking, tilting the glass to help.

“You need to eat this,” Ravs insists. Rythian shakes his head when the pill’s held out to him. He curls up on his side, eyes squeezed shut.

Well, if he’s not going to accept a painkiller, perhaps there’s another alternative. Ravs roots around in his pantry. He pops the cap off the rakk ale bottle, holding it out to Rythian.

Rythian mistakes it for more water or must be thirstier than he looks because he drinks it down before Ravs can lift it high enough.

“Easy there,” Ravs murmurs. When Rythian’s gotten a quarter of the stuff in him, Ravs takes the bottle away. It hits Rythian almost instantly, Rythian slackening on the table.

Ravs takes a pull of the bottle himself, leaving it on floor within reach. The chair’s legs skid on the floor when he pulls it closer to sit down on it. The water’s boiled, tweezers dipped in rubbing alcohol and wiped clean, and the jar’s open. All he has to do is start.

It proceeds in its own clusterfucky way. 

The first shard doesn’t want to be pulled out, catching on burnt skin and raw flesh. Rythian shudders, making an awful, low, keening hurt sound that goes right to Ravs’ heart.

He nearly stops there and then, dropping the tweezers. There’s no sign of Teep emerging from the bathroom to pick up his slacking.

Steeling himself, Ravs leans forward. This time, the shard’s freed, pried out with a sideways jiggle. It clinks when it’s dropped into the jar.

It’s still glowing a bright purple, the purple stained pinker because of the blood clinging to it. Ravs stares at it. The glow pulses in time with the other shards still trapped in Rythian’s back. Blood gushes out under the gashes. Rythian’s losing far too much blood. Hang on, there’s an Anshin syringe in the kit.

Another mouthful of booze calms him. It allows him to inject the Anshin syringe into Rythian’s back. That earns no reaction, and he can’t wait around to find out if it’ll have an effect. Ravs takes a deep breath, picking up the tweezers again.

The second, third and fourth shards give him no trouble, being skin deep and of varying sizes. The fifth is trickier. It snags under the skin and breaks in half when the tweezer grips an uneven edge. Rythian moans, twisting away from the pain, hands clawing at the tablecloth. Ravs uses a hand to pin him down by the hip, keeping him in place. The shard pops free, bouncing off the table. 

Not wanting to touch it, Ravs shooes it into the jar using the edge of his boot.

Between shards, Ravs mops up the flowing blood with cotton wool and rags. Under his hands, Rythian keeps breathing, exhaling sharply if a shard’s yanked out hard or is dragged across torn skin.

Sorry Rythian, you’ll have to hurt to heal.

At first, Ravs goes for the largest shards. Piece by piece, the collection builds. A viscous layer of blood coats the bottom of the jar, sloshing whenever Ravs stoops to grab it, holding it against Rythian’s back to catch the falling shard.

He’s following a rule that smarter bandits established long ago: if it looks rank, don’t stick a finger in it, and no  _ touching _ .

The medium shards cause Rythian further pain. Ravs’ interrupted by having to give him water, plus another quarter of the rakk ale. Inebriated, Rythian slides back into the safe place between unconsciousness and consciousness.

Aided by his past, Ravs carries on with the extraction, the resolve to help Rythian keeping him wide awake, indifferent to Rythian’s pain.

This is hell on Ravs’ own back, hands and wrists. They’re beginning to ache by the time he’s reached the point where he’s about to start on the smallest shards.

In the background, the bathroom door opens, slamming shut. 

A moment later, Teep collapses onto the empty chair near him. Washing the tweezers, Ravs doesn’t turn to look at them. He tries not to. Out of the corner of his eyes, bandages cover one of Teep’s eyes and face. There’s a snatch of red, whether from blood, bandages or hair.

The smallest shards are  _ buried _ in Rythian’s back. He’s amazed by how Rythian isn’t already paralysed.

A few are pushed in to the point where the upper edges are only visible, glinting in the kitchen’s light. Others are fused with muscle, trapped. Extracting them will require surgery, and that’s a skill Ravs definitely doesn’t have.

Ravs nearly jumps in his seat when Teep reaches over with Rythian’s teleporter held in one hand. Teep crooks a gloved finger, gesturing to the shards. Spots of blood fleck the jar’s sides when the shards clatter upon landing. Rythian jerks against the table, hands clenching cloth.

Looking at them makes Ravs’ insides burn with guilt.

“Can’t do the others, they’re too stuck,” Teep signs, leaning back. They dump Rythian’s teleporter back into the cardboard box containing all his stuff.

“We can’t just leave them in there,” Ravs says. His fingers curl. He’s not leaving them in Rythian’s back to continue doing...whatever glowy, alien shards did.

“You  _ can’t _ take them out,” Teep signs, stressing the second word with a flourishing jab of their hand.

Ravs turns, tossing the tweezers down onto the table. It lands amongst the towels. He’s been at this for over two hours now, only to be told to give up. So yeah, he’s  _ pissed. _

“How do  _ you  _ know?”

Teep rips off the bandages on their face. “Because I tried that  _ already _ !” They lean back, beginning to redo the bandages up as Ravs closes his mouth.

In a heartbeat, Ravs yanks his chair closer. His hands finding Teep’s own, gripping theirs.

If Rythian’s wounds are glowing, then so are Teep’s. Teep’s shards have melted, fusing to the skin around their eyes. The blisters are almost like a pattern of malformed scales. Teep’s eyes (black like the inside of an inkwell, or thanks to the kitchen’s shitty lighting) regard Ravs coolly. A flicker of purple in one eye flashes with annoyance.

“I’m not blind, I can still shoot,” Teep signs, shaking off Ravs’ hands. He hasn’t seen their whole face yet. The looser cloth wrappings below their eyes are still in place.

They and Rythian will have to live with this for the rest of their lives.

Ravs doesn’t know how they can possibly feel. He wasn’t there with them, and that’s what actually hurts more than having to deal with the hideous aftermath.

“So we leave them in his back,” Ravs says. The only way to get those shards out would be to butcher Rythian’s back, right down to his spine and insides. He turns to Teep, pouncing on a hopeful notion that his gut’s already shot down. “You can do it, you can get them out-”

“I can’t,” Teep signs, the motions frustrated, choppy from their own attempt to hide their own pain. “I’d kill Rythian if I tried.”

Ravs isn’t satisfied with that answer, but they can’t risk it. Rythian’s already lost far too much blood- he might even be dying.

Teep just tosses Ravs a roll of bandages. He agrees with that, at least. Rythian doesn’t twitch when Ravs sits him up to wind the bandages around his back or chest. It takes three rolls of bandages to fully cover the wound. The bleeding hasn’t tapered off, blood still pouring down, leaking and staining the air. Ravs can almost taste it in his mouth whenever he breathes.

It falls to him to help Rythian up. Rythian wobbles on his feet like he’s forgotten how to use both of his legs to stand. Ravs regrets letting him drink so much alcohol. He helps Rythian down the corridor and into his bedroom. Rythian’s left to curl up on his bed to sleep it off.

When Ravs is back in the kitchen, he spies Teep putting down the bottle of rakk ale he’d left out. He checks the level. There’s a quarter rather than half left, which he finishes off.

All the rakk ale’s quieting, easing the feeling of failure growing heavier with every shard. It sits under his lungs, almost suffocating, unbearable. He’s on the verge of drinking another two bottles to time travel back six hours. Maybe this is all a sick nightmare. Any second now, he’ll wake up. Or maybe not.

Cleaning up takes ten minutes. He’s ready to pass out when he’s done. He leaves the jar of eridium shards on the table.

Teep despawns it at arm’s length. Ravs doesn’t know what Teep did with their own shards; the bowl he’d provided earlier’s left to dry at the sink, free of gore. That bowl will never be used again (he will burn it later, and scatter the ashes along the pier).

“You can stay for as long as you need to,” Ravs offers (but really, he didn’t need to say it out loud; Teep’s in no fit state to travel, nor do they have anywhere else to go). 

Teep nods, rising. “If you don’t mind me crashing on your couch.” 

Ravs lets them borrow several blankets and a spare pillow. When he leaves the living room, Teep’s already ‘asleep’, buried beneath the nest they’ve made atop their body. They’re a lump, curled up on their side, no doubt in need of rest.

A shower washes off the stink of blood, sweat and metal. Nothing can be done about the smell in the apartment until the neighbors aren’t around so he can open the windows to air out the place.

Well, Ravs’ bed is being occupied. Still, he climbs in with Rythian, staying a respectful distance away, listening to him breathe in and out, waiting for it to find a rhythm that isn’t painful for the both of them.

\--

Not wanting to leave the two alone, Ravs excuses himself from barkeeping duties for the next three days. Nilesy doesn’t mind, nor does he ask why Ravs is going to be absent. Bless Nilesy, Ravs thinks as he carries supplies up the stairs.

He knocks when there’s nobody else around to pester him for a friendly chat. He might not have nosy neighbors (thanks to Daltos; fuck, thinking of him makes Ravs’ heart hurt like a hangover that’s gone on for too long) but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Teep lets him in. Teep’s wounds are already scabbing shut. Despite that, the bandages and eyepatch aren’t ready to come off yet. Ravs hasn’t seen the damaged goggles that he’d seen hanging around Teep’s neck on the night that they’d showed up with Rythian.

When Teep had woken up, Ravs gets the full story while he’s making chicken soup (the instant kind, supplemented by Ravs’ own filling additions, herbs, bits of meat, and a little bit of this and that). 

They hadn’t touched the soup until their hands had stilled. After preventing the Vault’s opening, Teep had carried a partially conscious Rythian to and from the Fast Travel Station, risking being seen and worsening their own injury.

From thereon, Ravs watches Teep for the slightest sign of the traumatic event affecting them. A story told that flippantly and jarringly indicated that they felt more about the event than they initially let on. It could be a case of delayed reaction.

They spend the recovery time chilling out on Ravs’ couch with the hood of their jacket down. It’s not strange to find a nest of blankets hiding Teep underneath, when he comes home.

Ravs quickly learned to pat down the couch or risk being kicked in the butt by an incensed Teep for accidentally sitting on them. If this is what owning a cat’s like, Ravs can’t really understand Nilesy’s appeal for cat ownership.

The face wrappings are still worn, no matter how much Ravs hopes that one day, they won’t be there.

“My eyelid got cut,” Teep explains, in regards to the eyepatch. “Just missed my eyeball, luckily.” He can’t tell if the ‘luckily’ is supposed to be sarcasm.

With the goggles absent, Ravs ends up seeing Teep’s eyes and hair more often than not. They must use the Quick Change Station to keep their hair permanently short. 

It annoys him that he can never remember the exact color of their eyes or hair. Perhaps he’s so used to not knowing it that his mind keeps making the mental adjustment even if he keeps finding out.

Today, Ravs glimpses Teep staring at the coffee table. Laid out on top of said table are the busted goggles. Teep despawns them, appearing to sigh when their shoulders slump.

“You got another pair?” Ravs hands them a plate heaped with pasta. His pasta’s not as good as Minty’s. Still decent and filling though. Teep takes the plate and fork to leave it where they left the goggles.

“I do, but those were my favourite,” Teep signs. Their lone eye fixes on Ravs. At least he remembers that their stares are as penetrating as he thinks they are.

“Can I have a look?”

Teep obliges, tossing the goggles over. Ravs catches the strap. The glitched remnants of a HUD scroll across on the broken fragments. He holds them up to his face, trying to imagine what Teep sees when wearing them. He hands them back.

“They mean a lot to you.” That sigh had lasted for a few seconds longer than a regular one did.

“A gift,” Teep signs. They glance at the doorway. “Time to check on Rythian.” Ravs raises an eyebrow at the abrupt change in topic. Well, they have their reasons. He follows them into his bedroom. Food can wait.

In his bedroom, Rythian’s thrashed off the sheets previously tucked around him. Ravs would have attempted to restore the sheets on a person who’s less inclined to kick them off every few hours.

This is the second day. When his hand touches Rythian’s forehead, Rythian’s still burning up. The fever worries Ravs. 

No fever should last that long, like a fire ravaging Rythian’s body from within. It’s torture on Rythian, whose agonised movements force Ravs and Teep to change his bandages on an hourly basis. Ravs’ bin is littered with empty Anshin syringes to stave off shock and blood loss. He has no idea if it’s helping or worsening the situation.

It’d begun several hours after the shard ordeal, coming and going until now. Calling a doctor is out of the question. Any doctor would have recommended an easier death via a pillow clamped over Rythian’s face rather than letting him tough this out as his body tries to valiantly purge whatever affliction it’s suffering.

He and Teep take turns to watch over Rythian when it gets especially bad. Rythian tosses and turns, mumbling in tongues.

When he’s not asleep, he accepts water when he’s almost awake, not quite lost in whatever feverish nightmare he’s suffering. Lukewarm and thin soup’s the only food that’ll stay down.

Fortunately, Ravs is a self-taught master at changing sheets in under five minutes whenever a mess happens. The laundromat’s owner is delighted to see him drop by with a load that leads them to assume that Ravs is a party animal, or looking after someone who’s incredibly sick. Well, they wouldn’t be wrong about the latter.

When Rythian is not calm, he can’t get near Rythian due to the constant thrashing and lashing out. Ravs’ tally of permanent scars and scratches goes up by five; Rythian’s nails are hilariously sharp. Every touch (no matter how gentle) becomes a potential landmine for a kick, punch or attempting eye-gouging.

Annoyed after Rythian had nearly punched them in the face, Teep bluntly suggests tranquilising Rythian, which Ravs shoots down.

It’s not one of Rythian’s proudest moments, that’s for sure.

Rythian’s eyes fly open when Ravs removes his hand. Rythian’s hand grips his wrist, nails scraping along the skin there. He moves to brush the hand off, curbing the temptation to copy Teep and bend one of the fingers back.

“Hey now, it’s good that you’re eager, but I think you should be resting…” Ravs trails off once his eyes reach Rythian’s face. Right, Rythian having electric blue eyes is normal. Rythian having purple eyes that are shaded with freaky purple isn’t.

Teep gets in between them, drawing a pistol to point it at Rythian’s forehead. Rythian stares at Teep. Ravs doesn’t dare speak for fear of interrupting whatever standoff is happening.

At last, Rythian blinks, closing his eyes. He slumps, falling back onto the bed in a dead faint. 

Ravs reaches him first before Teep can, lifting his head up. “Rythian, Rythian, can you hear me?” A pulse is present when his fingers press against the skin of Rythian’s neck.

“...too close,” Rythian mutters, opening his eyes (which are an electric blue again). It’s his two words in hours that haven’t been clicking gibberish. “Ravs,” He rasps, almost sounding far too relieved. He nods at the glass of water by the bed. Ravs fetches it for him. Rythian downs almost all the water, sounding way too panicky when he asks, “Where’s Teep?”

Teep’s put the pistol away, watching neutrally. “Here,” They sign, stepping into Rythian’s line of sight.

Rythian sits up, gesturing for them to come closer. Teep does so, albeit warily. Ravs wants to drag them over by the scruff of the neck. Their evident wariness isn’t helping Rythian. Teep crouches in front of Rythian.

“Can I see your…?” Teep inclines their head forwards before the request’s complete. 

Rythian’s fumbling fingers tug down the bandages. After a long moment, he settles back on the bed, numbly staring at his own clenched hands.

He starts to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Ravs sits cross-legged besides Rythian, throwing an arm around his shoulders, avoiding touching the bandages on his back. “Teep’s alive, you’re alive…”

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” bursts out of Rythian.

Teep hooks a finger around the bandages, tugging them back down to give Ravs a dry look of ‘this is entirely your department, not mine’. Ravs makes a shushing gesture, glad that Rythian’s buried his face in his hands, missing that Teep would literally like to be in a different room. Despite that, they stay.

It’s...hard, watching Rythian weep. It’s harder than watching him struggle to regain the weight lost from starvation and dehydration, back when Ravs first met him, determined not to let himself be infantilized.

Ravs leans closer to Rythian, listening to the quiet hiccups and messy sobs filling the tiny room. He’s never seen him this vulnerable, and it’s ripping Ravs apart on the inside to see him suffer like this.

Whatever Rythian’s going through, words won’t help. The pain exists in a place that’s far beyond Ravs’ reach. Rythian hunches forwards, his back curving under Ravs’ hand as he tries to muffle his distress like he  _ hates _ himself for being  _ human _ .

Ravs doesn’t notice Teep leaving or returning, not until they gruffly drop off a box of tissues. It lands next to Rythian. With that, Teep moves to sit on Rythian’s other side, arms crossed over their chest.

The full body shudders cease a few minutes later. Ravs gathers Rythian into a loose hug. Rythian’s dreadfully skinnier, lankier frame doesn’t quite fit snugly against Ravs’ wider, stockier body. His forehead rests on Ravs’ shoulder, the tickle of his damp eyelashes nearly making Ravs chuckle.

No matter how much Rythian believes that he’s a goddamned mess, Ravs will still be here for him.

Rythian’s nails lightly scratch Ravs’ back, a desperate sign of how starved he is of human contact, for a kind touch. How many times had he woken up to find Teep or Ravs absent from his bedside? He must have thought they’d left him despite his contradictory behaviour and reactions.

He’d been trying to cling to whoever’s closest, unable to speak, forced to rely on his actions to do so for him.

He keeps whispering broken apologies, laced between every breath. Each hurried repetition hammers in self blame, shackling it on his own shoulders like a burden made out of lead with concrete straps, and he is hoping that Ravs and Teep will let him sink when he refuses to swim.

Ravs passes his hands up onto Rythian’s tense shoulders. Rythian almost relaxes under his hands, wanting to lean into them but at the same time, denying himself that small allowance.

Oh of course, he thinks that he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t  _ deserve  _ Ravs, doesn’t  _ deserve _ Teep, doesn’t deserve to  _ live. _

“Rythian,” Ravs murmurs in the gentlest tone possible. 

It’s impossible to ignore how soft his voice is, guaranteed to catch anyone’s attention no matter how loud the party is, or if it’s in an empty room so that all noise (even the rush of blood) falls away when he uses that voice of his. It’s just you and me (plus any invited guests) now, is what that tone is, and people paid an awful lot of attention for what other tricks he can do.

Rythian makes an acknowledging, restrained noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head. He’s still clinging on when Ravs tests drawing back.

Behind him, Teep rises and points at Ravs, pretending to laugh. Ravs silently flips them the middle finger.

A minuter later, Rythian lets go of his own accord, shuffling back on the bed without looking at either of his friends in the eyes.

“I’m sorry-” Rythian’s interrupted by Teep holding up a hand.

“Apologize one more time and I’m punching you.”

“Sor-” Sniffling, Rythian clams up, giving a sheepish look. Teep puts their hand down.

“Are you hungry?” Ravs inquires, shifting closer. Rythian’s head bobs. Ah yes, he’s always ravenous when he’s awake. “You can share my pasta. I’m not that hungry anyway.” Besides, there’s two extra people who needed to be fed, one of which had an erratic sleeping schedule. Extra food can always be leftovers.

“Thank you,” Rythian awkwardly mumbles.

“Wipe your face, you got snot all over it,” Teep points out. Ravs gives them a look. Flushing, Rythian does so. Ravs tugs the bin closer, letting him toss the used tissues away.

Ravs gets up to fetch the pasta (with the very high chance of being rendered cold at this point). Someone yanks on the back of his kilt. He stops before his kilt can come off. That’s a first.

Rythian’s hand is curled in the tartan fabric, his gaze stubbornly set on the sheets. Once a grinning Ravs sits back down, Rythian’s hand moves to his own lap.

It falls to Teep to fetch the pasta, which they do (on top of reheating it). Ravs and Rythian eat, forks clinking on the plate they share. Teep’s gone off to eat in the living room.

Rythian picks at the remaining bits of pasta on the plate, the tines of the fork pushing them around like a kid who doesn’t want to eat their greens. Waiting apparently, for Ravs to finish eating. Seconds are offered and declined. Well, more for Ravs later.

“Where’s all my stuff?” Rythian asks in a small voice like he’s grievously sorry for troubling his host. Ravs retrieves the box from its place beside his wardrobe. The tangled up bundle that’s the scarf is removed, eliciting a heavy sigh at all the dried blood coating it. 

“It’ll wash out,” Ravs brightly says. “I’ll toss it in with all my other stuff later.” The scarf’s put aside near the hamper (currently empty) that holds Ravs’ dirty laundry. Rythian pulls out his coat. He roots around, trying to find his shirt.

“Well, there goes my shirt and my best coat.” The corner of Rythian’s mouth twitches. His eyes momentarily crease, like he’s trying not to cry again. Ravs’ hand squeezes his.

“I’ll buy you a new coat and shirt,” Ravs automatically offers. He knows Rythian’s size off by heart.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it myself.” Almost everything’s been piled into the box for this moment. Rythian idly toys with his digistruct modules, rather than clipping them on. “Where’s the Vault Key?” When he asks that, he looks right into Ravs’ eyes.

The look in those eyes indicate that a bit of the old Rythian is still alive and kicking in the marked body. Ravs is walking on eggshells around this newer and meeker Rythian who’s almost devoid of his original confidence and resolve.

Teep hands over the Vault Key, Rythian lets it sit in his palm. He flings it at the wall, the metal flashing like a coin being tossed as it spins. With a cracking sound like an axe splitting through a wooden log, the Vault Key dents the plaster there, ending up on the floor. It’s fortunate that it doesn’t end up slipping between the floorboards.

“Rythian!” Ravs sharply says. “What was that for?” He shoves off the bed to crouch by it, scooping it up.

“It’s not scratched, it is?” Rythian lightly points out, watching the Vault Key with an expression approaching disdain at the fact that it hadn’t shattered and made a sizeable hole in Ravs’ bedroom wall.

“No, not at all.” Mystified, Ravs flips the Vault Key over. It’s the same on either side, the symbol of the Vault shaped from an alien metal. The polish on it could fool miners.

“I’ve done everything to get rid of it.” Rythian takes the Vault Key back. “It won’t  _ leave _ me.” He makes a frustrated sound, looking like he hates himself for failing to successfully dispose of it.

“Everything?” Ravs muses out loud. If that’s what the Vaults are made out of, no wonder why the Vaults have persisted in this day and age.

“Everything,” Rythian confirms, appearing to think. He opens his tired eyes. “Teep, we need to go back to the Vault-” Teep vetoes the idea instantly. “Not to open it, but to secure it.”

“How?” Teep signs.

“We need to do something to permanently block off the entrance. I don’t know how, though.” Rythian grinds his fingers against his forehead like he has a headache, and perhaps the headache can be persuaded to leave him if he rubs hard enough.

“I can help you two there,” Ravs proposes, mulling over an idea that’s forming in his head. “It’ll take me a day or so to organize. You might as well get some sleep...and heal up.” And to secretly confer with Teep about this idea of Rythian’s.

Rythian looks like he’s about to argue, shutting the Vault Key back into its trinket disguise. It’s retied around his neck with Ravs’ help. He lies down on his side, bandaged back turned on Ravs and Teep. “Fine.” Talking seems to have drained whatever reserves he’d built up.

He does however, permit Ravs to run a soothing hand through his hair before Ravs leaves the bedroom.

Teep shakes their head, departing first like the display sickens them. Knowing Teep, they’re just envious of the tender, physical contact between the two, or so Ravs claims.

\--

\- // NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. // -

Ravs: Daltos.

Daltos: Ravs. It’s a bit soon of you to call.

Ravs: Sorry to bother you, but I need a favor of sorts.

Daltos: This means you’ll owe me another I.O.U. Are you  fine with that?

Ravs: Yes, if it means helping a friend of mine out.

Daltos: What do you need?

Ravs: I need all the dynamite you have.

Daltos: All of it?

Ravs: All of it, whatever you can spare.

Daltos: You know how to detonate it?

Ravs: Yeah, don’t worry about that part.

Daltos: I’ll see what I can do.

Ravs: Thank you.

\- // END OF ECHO RECORDING. // -

\--

It takes Rythian several weeks until he can pull on a shirt without wanting to immediately tear it off. Even then, he needs a protective layer of bandages over the top to stop the fabric from irritating the newly healed skin there. The scars had healed over in the disturbing shape of eyes that stare into space. Ravs doesn’t like them one bit.

Otherwise, Ravs isn’t complaining, given that he gets to see Rythian shirtless on a regular basis. Blushing madly (almost as often as Zylus does whenever Ravs is involved), Rythian resorts to modestly hiding his shirtlessness underneath a blanket stolen from the bed or couch.

Teep’s fallen back on their spare set of goggles. On the same day that the scars held when touched, the goggles make a long awaited return.

“I almost forgot what you looked like with them on,” Ravs jokes when Teep walks out of the bathroom.

> Shut the fuck up, and let’s get going.

Rythian elects to stay indoors during the handoff. His opinion toward bandits can be summed up as ‘better dead than alive, minus Ravs, of course’. Understable, given that Ravs has a first-hand account of living with said bandits before turning over a new leaf.

Teep accompanies Ravs to the clearing located five minutes away on foot. It’s not a long wait. 

Right on time, a lone Buzzard descends from the cloudy sky. Daltos steps down. A gloved hand pushes goggles up. The wind ruffles his hair and clothes as the Buzzard goes into standby. The masked bandit in the pilot’s seat watches, fidgeting impatiently.

Ravs moves to meet Daltos, a brisk stride taking him over. From the shade of a convenient pile of rocks, Teep observes that the smile on Ravs’ face is different to his usual one. Ravs is glad to see him, and yet, isn’t. Interestingly, Daltos’ own longing expression reflects that feeling.

The two talk for less than a minute. Teep doesn’t pay attention to any of it, wanting to leave already. They’ve done a few jobs before for Daltos and his lieutenant (who’s apparently a long time acquaintance of Minty’s).  Nothing too unusual, just a couple of random hits and scouting missions.

That said, Teep can’t help remembering how they’d met him.

\--

While en route to the Vault of the Queen, Rythian’s gotten sidetracked. He’d dived into a bunch of possible ruins for tidbits he could obsess over. He doesn’t mind where Teep goes, so long as they let him know before heading off and returning when expected to pick him up.

They preferred to nap in the technical, or go resupply. Neither appeal. Well, Ravs had sent over the coordinates to his new place. 

Teep’s curious. Ravs had hosted a housewarming party that Teep and Rythian had missed due to being halfway across the Triton flats on a supply job. Not minding the absences, Ravs had also sent along his regards.

They enter the Fast Travel Code and let the network take them to it. It’s a typical Pandoran neighborhood, a bunch of buildings slapped down in the middle of nowhere that appealed to people from which a town sprung up out of.

It’s the first phase of night so Teep’s left alone to make their way to Ravs’ apartment. It’s one of those buildings with a garage underneath and the actual apartments squatting on top, reachable by a set of stairs at one end.

What Ravs finds so charming about this place, Teep will never understand.

They knock. Ravs isn’t a stranger to their surprise visits. He answers on the third knock, shirtless and barefoot. A lilac towel’s loosely wrapped around his waist.

“Teep! Come in, it must be horribly cold for you.” He yawns, stepping back to let Teep pass. A hand smooths down his ruffled hair, passing over a bunch of blue marks imprinted on his neck.

Teep leans down to pick up a jacket left out on the floor. It’s not one of Ravs’; it wouldn’t fit in amongst the collection of two leather jackets Ravs owned.

This jacket is navy blue, Dahl made and wouldn’t fit Ravs, even with the sleeves cut off. It smells of cigarette smoke, also of Dahl make. It’s too horribly familiar, drifting up out of their suppressed memories. In their more recent, less choppy memories, it sometimes followed Ravs about, a conscious override that Teep’s thankful for.

Grinning, Ravs tugs the jacket out of Teep’s hands. No explanation’s given. He strides down the hallway with the jacket slung over one arm. His back’s marked, like a pair of hands had dug in, dragging down the tanned skin to leave visible, shaky lines ending at Ravs’ waist.

“You hungry?” He calls out. Hm, his levels of cheerfulness are off the charts for someone roused out of bed by an unexpected guest at ass ‘o’ clock.

> Make me a toasted sandwich.

“One sandwich coming up!”

While Ravs is distracted, Teep sets off down the hallway to where his bedroom is located. They have an excellent idea of who the owner of that jacket is. The door opens halfway with a well placed nudge before getting jammed.

A shirt (again, not Ravs’) is trapped in the gap between the scuffed floor and splintering wood. Teep eases the shirt out, tossing it aside. It joins Ravs’ kilt and boots on the floor.

This is Ravs’ room. The time between moving in and Teep’s visit didn’t allow Ravs to collect much in personal possessions. That and the ‘constantly on the move’ bit of his life didn’t leave room for developing a hoarding tendency.

What Teep can see of the bedroom is that there’s a hand stitched rug in the middle of the floor, a couple of secondhand wooden chairs, and a curtain that’d once been a bandit flag of some kind (the clan symbol riddled with bullet holes). It’s pretty bare, cosier on the inside than what the apartment looks on the outside.

As a principle, Ravs is of the opinion that if whatever he leaves is fine where it is, it didn’t need to be moved unless it had to be. This applied to wherever he chooses to park the technical, campfire placement, ammo drops, or his position in a fistfight (what with being an unstoppable force and all, once he decides to stop fucking around). Most importantly, he applied that principle to  _ himself _ .

His concept of personal space is almost nonexistent. Teep, Zylus and Rythian had given up on putting space between themselves and Ravs; Ravs shouldered aside bodily borders between people with a friendly grin and a flirtatious quip ready.

It’s probably a bandit thing, to be that physical and seem so sure that it’s the right way to go. Astonishingly, it works.

Ravs gladly shared other people’s  _ space _ , while preserving his own to be doled out sparingly. Sure, he offered hugs and gladly held hands, but permitting full-body contact is at Ravs’ own choosing. Strange, for somebody whose speciality deliberately lay in winding others up solely by using his looks, wordplay and advanced social skills.

During watches, Teep’s seen him let Zylus and Rythian cling to him during freezing nights while camping out in the scrublands. While his casual trips away could last up to six hours, Ravs always returned to the camp on time.

It’s rare that he seems agitated upon his return, proving happier on most occasions. Rythian and Zylus speculate about where Ravs goes. Teep chooses not to comment, even if Zylus and Rythian bug them for their opinion. It’s not anyone’s business if Ravs is seeing someone on the side. Whoever it is must be good for him, Teep had concluded.

Rythian and Zylus had ruled out that Ravs couldn’t possibly be seeing anyone; he didn’t seem the type to pursue a serious relationship with  _ anyone _ . That meant that the two had never asked, and so, Ravs had never told.

Well, Rythian and Zylus are fucking wrong. Teep’s seeing the evidence firsthand.

Ravs’ shouting woken up whoever’s in his bed. It’s pretty clear which side of the bed is Ravs’. His side’s sheets are indented, his folding, lop-sided pillow about to meet the floor.

For him to give up space willingly indicates that he must really adore the other person. This isn’t a random fling, and never had been.

Someone’s propped up on an elbow, bare back turned to Teep. From the doorway, Teep can pick out a series of five, faint red lines (identical to Ravs’ ones) scoring their back.

The black haired stranger drops back onto the pillow under their head, heaving a disgruntled sigh. Teep spies the curve of a bruised hip bone beneath the sheet covering a leg, plus the faded olive of pants.

Yawning, Daltos blinks, rolling onto his back with a mild grimace. He catches sight of Teep, sitting bolt upright. The two stare at each other.

“I’m staying the night,” Daltos lightly says. A scarred hand shoves off the sheet, letting him get up.

“Does it involve leaving your jacket in the hallway?” Teep’s smirking. Daltos has no way of knowing, watching them for a few moments. He takes a moment to respond to the signing.

“In Ravs’ place, it does,” Daltos dryly says. He passes them to head into the kitchen. Teep follows.

“Did I wake you?” Ravs’ face brightens when he spots him and Teep entering. He throws Teep a look. “There you are, I was wondering where you’d run off to. I hope you didn’t cause any trouble.”

“I’m innocent,” Teep signs.

“Yeah, they didn’t shoot me on sight, which is always nice,” Daltos says.

“I’d have broken their spine if they’d done that,” Ravs easily says, grinning at Teep. Teep shakes their head.

The smell of fresh coffee drifts out from a mug in Ravs’ hand. The mug has the black text ‘#1 DAD’ crudely slopes along the side. It’s passed to Daltos.

He’s only just taken it when Ravs ambushes him with a public display of affection. He ends up kissing the mug that Daltos raises. Smirking at the successful block, Daltos sips the coffee. He leans on the counter next to Ravs.

Ravs pulls away, not even disappointed. He flips the sandwich in the pan over, letting the other side cook to a browning yellow. Melting butter joins the kitchen’s scents.

The scene is so  _ natural  _ that Teep wants to turn around and walk out right that second. This isn’t their domain. Their domain rests on the battlefield, full of violence, blood, and all those other things that made Pandora  _ Pandora _ .

Weirdly, Ravs and Daltos would be right at home on the battlefield. To see the two of them relaxing in a bullet-free environment like this is odd. The sight nags at the little place inside of Teep, tugging on it and whispering, “You deserve this too.”

“Sit down, your sandwich’s nearly done,” Ravs brightly invites. Teep shrugs, taking a kitchen chair. Time to see how this’ll play out if they end up staying.

Daltos watches Teep with the familiar, bleary look of someone who’d like to go back to bed, and that it’s pointless to try because of Ravs. He sets the coffee mug down on the counter. A box of cigarettes is digistructed. Rather than taking a smoke out, Daltos offers it to Teep.

Teep waves it away. “I’m not breaking my smoke free streak today.” 

Years ago, on a snowy evening, two strangers wait outside of an airfield hanger share a pack of smokes, the former with pending captaincy gifting the other with the whole pack before the latter’s incoming deployment into a warzone. Neither had smoked in the past, choosing to do so because it passed the time so that the future arrived sooner than expected.

It’s a mutual moment that neither one remembers, where their lives had intersected so briefly without significance. Here they are years later, still strangers, but familiar strangers, at that. No word exists to describe the oddity of the feeling that’s currently affecting Teep and Daltos.

Nah, it’d be one hell of a coincidence.

“Fair enough.” Daltos extracts one cigarette, only for Ravs’ hand to close over the box. His fingers could crush it if he squeezed.

“No smoking while I’m cooking,” Ravs absently reminds. His hand’s shaken off when the box is tugged out from under his bare palm.

“I’m not going to light it up,” Daltos says, giving him an annoyed look.

Ravs smiles at him, leaning over. “If you take out your lighter, your smokes are going into the sink,” He threatens, still grinning.

“Yeah, fine,” Daltos dismisses. Ravs goes back to the sandwich, turning down the heat. The sandwich narrowly escapes a burnt fate. “Teep, right?” 

Either Ravs had told him all about them or Daltos has an excellent information network for someone who’s a full time warlord sleepily standing in Ravs’ kitchen, half-dressed, casually sipping Ravs’ coffee from a ‘#1 DAD’ mug.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Teep signs, deciding to take him seriously. 

Ravs doesn’t need digistruct modules to be a threat. Anybody who got out of bed wearing a digistruct module is somebody who Teep has to keep a close eye on. There’s more to them than meets the eye.

“How do you feel about murdering someone for me?” Oh good, Daltos isn’t looking to pick a fight. Teep would hate to ruin Ravs’ kitchen table by flipping it at him.

“Depends, how much are you willing to pay?”

“Do I get a discount because I’m fucking Ravs?” 

Teep allows a silent chuckle. “Maybe.”

“Sorry to correct you, but does he get a discount because I’m fucking him?” Ravs says without turning. Daltos deadeyes him for a few seconds, earning a hearty chuckle.

“Sure, why not. It means he’s stopped hitting on me.”

“I can hit on you if you want,” Ravs automatically says, giving Daltos a look. “Provided he’ll let me.”

“Go for it, you’d do it anyway on anything that moves,” Daltos says, smirking. He dodges the friendly swat headed for him. “Anyway, my lieutenant’s got a hit list that’s a mile long which you can have a look at.”

“I expect to be paid in full after every job.”

“Of course, or Ravs wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.”

“Alright, why the hell are you two getting along so well?” Ravs turns around to drop off a plain white plate with the toasted sandwich placed in the middle of it. “It’s  _ really _ fucking weird.”

“Weird?” Daltos pulls out a lighter to flick it a couple of times. He steps away from Ravs’ attempted snatch, a hand protectively covering the lighter’s wobbly flame. “You’re done cooking!” His last sentence’s muffled as it’s spat out around the cigarette in his mouth.

“Teep’s eating!”

“The sandwich isn’t for me.” Teep wraps up the sandwich, packing it away. If they weren’t so adverse to eating in front of other people, they would be eating the sandwich while it’s still warm. Rythian’s obsession with anything Eridian means he skips meals if Teep isn’t there to drag him to the campfire stove. “Carry on.”

“You two have literally never met!” Scratching his head, Ravs gives them both incredulous looks.

“No, we haven’t,” Daltos says. A smoke ring dissipates before it can reach the ceiling. “Or I’d definitely remember.”

“Likewise,” Teep signs.

“Not even in the past?” Ravs gets a hand on Daltos’ arm, causing Daltos to shrug him off. The lighter despawns. He picks up the coffee mug again. “You were both with Dahl!”

“Ravs, just because I used to be with Dahl doesn’t mean that I know  _ everyone _ from there.” Daltos rolls his eyes. “It’s not like bandit gangs.”

“Well, Daltos, I’m still confused as to why you’re getting along with Teep?” Ravs insists.

“Really?” Daltos chuckles, glancing at Teep. “You think we’re that anti-social?”

“It sounds like he does,” Teep signs.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Ravs sighs. “You two literally never get along with anyone.”

“I’m planning on seducing him. We’re going to have a secret rendezvous. It’ll involve hot, passionate kinky sex and you’re not invited.” Teep crosses their arms over their chest after to avoid giving away that they want to laugh at the raised eyebrows on Ravs’ face.

“Well, I don’t mind if he goes off with you, but do have a safeword, use lube and condoms, and consent is everything,” Ravs says, nodding in approval.

Without batting an eyelid, Daltos smirks. “Am I allowed to smoke in bed after? Ravs never lets me do that. Also, his pillow talk sucks.”

“Are you saying that I’m terrible in bed to the point that you’d need to smoke after?” Ravs pretends to look shocked. “Hey, my pillow talk is great!”

“I’m sorry you’re sore,” Daltos quotes in a deadpan voice, adding, “followed by a saucy wink does not make good pillow talk.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Ravs shamelessly shrugs before waggling his eyebrows. “But you are-”

“No,” Daltos automatically says, not looking up from his coffee mug. Ravs laughs, a look of genuine affection on his face. There’s a small smile on Daltos’ face.

“Yes, you are, that’s how people end one-night stands, right?” Teep signs.

“Yep,” Daltos lazily confirms.

“Anyway, you two aren’t helping.” Ravs gives him an annoyed look. “Seriously, why’re you two being so well behaved?”

“Maybe it’s because I’m actually capable of not being a dick to everyone I meet?” Daltos eyes Ravs with an irritated look.

“It’s because he’s hot, Ravs, and I want to be noticed by my senior officer.”

“Teep, you’ve never found anybody hot.”

“Nobody you’d know, that is.” Teep leans back on the kitchen chair. “Fine, I have a crush on him.”

“Can you get a crush on another person rather than the one I’m seeing? Just asking.”

“The person you’re  _ fucking _ ,” Daltos sarcastically corrects.

“Don’t be vulgar,” Ravs admonishes. He purrs, “I prefer the term ‘love-making’.”

“Fuck off with the sappy shit, or I smash this mug over your head.” The mug’s raised to acknowledge that that outcome is still possible.

“You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do,” Teep retorts. “I will elope with Daltos and break your heart.”

Ravs is laughing, a hand on Daltos’ shoulder. Daltos is smirking again. “Should have introduced us sooner, Ravs, I like Teep.”

“I like you too. Platonically, that is.” When Teep’s done signing, Daltos forwards his ECHO details. Teep does the same. 

Rubbing his face, Ravs stops looking so perplexed. This is one of those situations he’s going to end up possibly regretting in the distant future.

\--

It’s three days after blowing up the entrance to the Vault of the Queen. Ravs had flexed his bandit taught skill with explosives, setting up the dynamite to leave the Fast Travel Station and surrounding buildings intact. 

There’s no point in burying all the dead, according to Rythian. The blast radius turns them all to dust and sand, so nothing would have been left to bury.

The three take the Fast Travel Station back to Ravs’ place, risking the machine’s use for the third time. Rythian continues recuperating, sharing Ravs’ bed once again; Teep commandeers the couch as usual.

It’s nighttime, and Ravs is helping Rythian change his bandages. Rythian’s sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off and is winding bandages all the way up his arms. Teep’s left fresh bandages out on the wooden chair that Ravs uses to hang clothing off of in his bedroom. Gauze is fixed into place by Ravs’ steady hands.

When he’s all alone in the bathroom, Rythian runs his own hand down the distorted skin, fingertips feeling out the damage inflicted. Touch alone doesn’t form a full picture of the permanent horror in and on his back.

Whenever he’s in the kitchen and spots a knife, he walks out before he can pick it up and stab the blade under his skin and cut it all off, pain and blood loss be damned.

Ravs’ bathroom mirror isn’t full-body, a circular salvaged piece. The view’s suitable for shaving rather than checking out anyone’s upper back. Frustrated, Rythian has to contend with mental imagery, until he can find a decently sized mirror.

He asks Ravs to give him a haircut, once he’s done bandaging his arms up. The nearby Quick-Change Station’s capable of changing hairstyles, fixing them in whatever style permanently. Haircuts in these parts are considered an antiquated concept.

“Why?” Ravs asks Rythian.

Rythian’s breathing fills the room, slow and imperturbable. “I’ve changed,” is his simple answer.

Ravs doesn’t understand but he gets out what he needs from the shelf in the bathroom. 

Bandits living in the sticks preferred to do things the old fashioned way. Ironically, this lead to more individual variety than what a Quick Change Station could achieve. Some of the bolder gangs identified themselves with stylish cuts rather than with flags or emblems. All it does is make smashing their heads together easier.

“Any particular one you have in mind?” He asks, tying a clean lilac towel over Rythian’s shoulders.

“No, just do whatever you want.” Rythian trusts Ravs’ judgement in that area.

“Alright.”

Settled in the borrowed wooden chair in front of the mirror, Rythian closes his eyes. He surrenders to Ravs’ gentle hands and the rhythmic snipping of scissor. Loose strands of hair fall to the sharp metal blades, tickling the skin on his face and neck.

He must have fallen asleep. When he opens his eyes, the mirror resting on its wooden backing’s gone. Ravs’ hand is chasing away clippings and cuttings, loosening the towel to tug it free. Hair rains down onto the bathroom floor’s tiles, scattering all over Rythian’s shirt and pants.

Noticing that he’s awake, Ravs passes the mirror over. Bracing himself, Rythian forces his eyes downwards. 

At least Ravs hadn’t shaved him completely bald as a sadistic move. Rythian would have taken those scissors and shoved them, edge down, into Ravs’ hand if he’d done that.

From an outsider’s perspective, Rythian doesn’t look ‘civilized’ anymore. He hasn’t really looked at himself, not since he left his homeworld behind. 

It’s jarring, to say the very least. The face of the person staring back at him is a stranger’s face, from the look in his eyes, the way he holds himself, his resting expression, to how he  _ feels  _ on the inside. Certainly, he’s been through a ridiculous amount of shit because that’s how the universe operates, but he really has changed.

He can’t tell if it’s for better or for worse. With that spurious decision, he’s just left the last vestige of himself behind. No more clinging to who he used to be.

He’s a proper Pandoran now, and Pandorans lived in the present. It’s also a bit too much for him to take in right now.

Rythian returns the mirror to its stand, swallowing and taking deep breaths so he doesn’t end up crying again, and over a blasted  _ haircut  _ of all things.

"Is it okay?” Ravs cautiously asks. There’s concern written all over his face at Rythian’s prolonged silence.

“Yeah, it’s okay,“ Rythian murmurs, not wanting to hurt Ravs’ feelings in thinking that he’d failed Rythian’s request in any way.

  
He’s guilty because he can’t quite describe what he’s feeling to Ravs. It seems idiotic, really, hurting over a simple haircut. The chair creaks when he rises, his hand sweeping off the last few loose strands.

Gingerly, his curious fingers brush against the soft fuzz on one side of his head. Ravs had chosen to give him a haircut that’s similar to his own and yet, foreign enough for him, Rythian, to get used to.

“It’ll grow back, if you want it to,” Ravs says, already getting to work in sweeping up the mess under the chair.

Rythian nods, heading off to the Quick Change Station to lock in the new changes. There’s nothing else he can say to Ravs, aside from giving his thanks.

Ravs watches him depart with a concerned look.

\--

In the months that follow, Teep and Rythian split up. Teep goes to seek out the remains or locations of other Vaults based off Rythian’s notes. Ravs doesn’t know what Rythian’s done with all the notes about ‘the Queen’.  He assumes Rythian’s disposed of them or is hiding them.

Rythian withdraws into his own head. Often, he’s bent over his sketchbook, staring at the blank pages under his hand. The pencil bounces, the sharpened, granite tip never moving to touch the page. 

It’s like he’s stuck in a hole that he refuses to climb out of. Thinking about what while he’s stuck in there, Ravs doesn’t know.

Ravs can return from bartending eight hours later and Rythian will still be at the kitchen table, flipping the pencil in one hand, not having moved an inch. He’s always startled when Ravs flicks on the light. Ravs chastises him for not getting a glass of water or something to eat.

Guilty, always guilty, is the look on Rythian’s face. That’s not even the half of it. He jumps and flinches at every noise that has a metallic scrape to it. He doesn’t like the stove when it spits oil and fire, keeping a fair distance away. Any sort of heat past room temperature makes him nauseous. Pandora’s sun doesn’t him as much.

He likes it even less when Ravs accidentally throws an arm over him in his sleep. Ravs can’t help it, being a natural cuddler (not as clingy as Zylus but still a cuddler at heart). Rythian knows, still choosing to complain or shove Ravs off him. Ravs tries his best to accommodate, but fuck, it still hurts to be rejected on that front.

Once, forgetting the hands-off rule as he’d rolled over, Ravs had woken up being slammed into the floor a few metres away. He’d stormed back over to the bed, roughly shaking Rythian- Rythian hadn’t even been  _ awake.  _ The teleporter’s nowhere near Rythian’s hands. That should have tipped Ravs off. Rythian had been mortified. No amount of coaxing could talk him around into getting back into the bed.

After that, Rythian sleeps alone on the couch. He ends up pacing the living room in the wee hours, passing out whenever due to exhaustion.

The floorboards creak, as restless as Rythian (or his mind). Ravs doesn’t know how to help, short of manhandling (and he’s being affectionate here) the mopey bastard back into a proper bed with a wrestling lock.

A week in, Ravs checks in on Rythian while getting a glass of water. It’s typical of him to be pacing at these hours. Tonight, the floorboards are silent. The front door creaks. Ravs forgets about his glass of water, barging outside.

Barefoot, Rythian’s striding towards the Fast Travel Station. Ravs is too far away to make it down to stop him. Teep appears at the Fast Travel Station. Ravs waves his hands to get their attention, pointing to Rythian.

Teep picks up Rythian, carrying him back firefighter style.

“Welcome back,” Ravs says, taking a limp Rythian from them. Using his thumb, he carefully peels up one of Rythian’s eyelids. In its socket, the startlingly blue eye stares at (or right through) Ravs. Rythian hasn’t checked in yet, out on a mental wander. With any luck, he’ll be back soon.

> He’s sleepwalking.

“You think?” Ravs dumps Rythian onto the couch. Rythian’s bare feet are dirty; he starts to clean them off with rags and a bowl of cold water. Teep sits down next to Rythian, pulling back their hood to run a hand through their unkempt, short hair.

> This happened once in Oasis.

> Don’t ask me where he went, I have nfc.

“Is there any way that we can stop him from wandering off like this?” Ravs knows that he sounds exasperated.  It’s fortunate that Rythian hadn’t cut his foot open on a bit of rock or glass. “I’ll put him in my bed tonight.”

“Suit yourself.” Teep shifts, swinging their legs up onto the couch to sprawl out on it. They keep their boots off the surface. “See you in eight hours.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Teep.”

They agree not to talk about it until it becomes an issue, and after five more times of having to chase after Rythian in the middle of the night, Ravs and Teep give up on keeping it from him.

\--

Rythian denies he sleepwalks, until Teep wanders in and takes Ravs’ side in the argument that the two are having. The second phase of night is about to begin. This is the usual time where Rythian passes out and does his thing (sleep or walk).

He doesn’t always sleepwalk outside. Once, Ravs had found Rythian on his knees in the living room, scrawling alien text leading off the page of his journal, spilling across  _ sixteen _ floorboards. The pencil had taken an hour to scrub out.

So yes, Ravs is definitely worried rather than pissed. He prefers the nightmares over this bullshit.

“Rythian, this is getting out of hand.” Ravs runs a hand over his face. He’d deliberately woken up several times in the night to check that Rythian’s still on the couch (or in the bed next to him). Rythian slept like he’s dead to the world on the quiet nights. “You can’t sleep, and when you do, you sleepwalk sometimes, even outside.”

“It’s not going to happen again,” Rythian insists. Well, he’d stopped denying he sleepwalks, a minor improvement.

“Is there something bothering you?” Ravs delivers a serious look. Sleepwalking isn’t humorous, like a bandit sleepwalking into skag territories, making their close buddies cry and moan about keeping a closer eye on their mate, and is there anything left of the unlucky bugger that could be buried in a grave with all their stuff?

“No-”

“Don’t you trust us?” What is so bad that Rythian has to hide?

“I do, but-”

“But?”

Rythian mumbles something inaudible, guilty gaze dropping to the table. Ravs sighs, leaning back in his own chair. At least he’s aware of it. What good it’ll do, he doesn’t know. All his uncertainty is making him restless, annoyed that there’s no immediate solution.

Teep leans over to digistruct a list of names, scrawled on the back of a bounty poster (of a famous rebel, Crimson something). Nearly all those names are scratched out, a handful at the bottom remaining.

“What’s this?” Ravs inspects the list. Nobody he personally knows is on there. The majority’s are names that he’s heard in passing.

“A list of known Vault Hunters,” Teep signs. “The ones scratched out are dead.”

“How do you know?” Rythian shoots Teep a sharp look.

“Hyperion’s cracking down on bounties and anyone who claims to be a Vault Hunter.”

“ _ Shit _ .” Rythian’s hands massage his forehead. “Are we on that list?”

“No. I took care of that. You’re welcome.” Teep picks up the list, folding it up. Having Pyrionflax under their thumb is coming in handy. “Just in case, you’d better claim you know shit about the Vaults if anybody comes asking.”

The three are silent at this dark, unwelcome turn of events, the grim mood persisting through dinner. Rythian doesn’t fight the hand that reaches for his to hold it tight, as if to say ‘we’ll make it through this’.

He doesn’t fight the crushing feeling (like having an entire, lightless deep ocean trying to fit into the inside of his too small ribcage) that makes it so hard to squeeze back.

(Sorry.)

\--

Midmorning, Teep wakes to Ravs stomping around the apartment. That’s normal. Ravs needed to make his presence known in whatever way he could. 

Ravs is chummy with noise, free alcohol at a party or a crowd losing it at a spectacular, gory kill that made giblets rain from the ceiling. It’s a lot like Teep’s own relationship with silence (the  _ nothingness  _ after a fast draw match where time tipped its hat and smiled to itself at the perfection of the moment, or when a mind went blissfully blank before it slid into the restless oblivion of sleep).

Fifteen minutes after assuming that Ravs’ stormed into the kitchen to make a meal, Teep detects a figure standing over them. 

Under the goggles, they crack open an eye. It’s the eye without the scarred eyelid, and the weird sparkly, purple shit that glimmered like a desert’s brain melting mirage across their vision every now and again. It’s nice having their own starfield to gaze upon any time they wanted to, but fuck, it needed an off switch.

A couple of shards had found their intended target to play havoc with Teep’s vision. The eyelash sized pieces had melted, leaving no way to get them out without Teep being willing to sacrifice an eye. Nope, so long as the eye still works, they’ll deal. It might even be a challenge of its own to get back up to scratch with sniping with that permanent handicap in place.

If her intent had been to deprive them of their sight, she’s crashed and burned.

Not that Ravs could tell what eye they’re using right now. Teep turns their head to acknowledge his presence. The apartment’s reached the level of temperature that they find tolerable, neither too hot or too cold.

“Did you run out of booze again?” They sign without getting up from the couch.

“No,” Ravs says. Huh, troubled is not generally in his tone. Ravs’ troubles veered towards two extremes: exceedingly trivial and a waste of time, or if I’m not flirting, something is definitely wrong (with a capital ‘w’).

“Then what?” Teep pushes themself up into a sitting position, cracking a shoulder joint. They have a horrible hunch for what he’s about to tell them.

Ravs leans forwards to deliver the bad news in a soft tone like he can’t believe it himself. “Rythian’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (her eyes are always watching.)
> 
> this is a monster of a fic! i would like to give massive thanks to teasgtime, polishingopals and siins for just listening to all the rambling that goes on about this au.
> 
> so this chapter basically pulls back the curtain of how rythian and teep got marked by the queen. the queen herself hasn’t yet made a physical appearance. while carvings and pictures of her exist, most of them were destroyed by the eridians long before rythian was born. 
> 
> she’s a lot more sentient than other vault entities, and definitely a lot more vicious, intelligent and malicious. we’ll get to why she’s that way in ‘tlvh’ when rythian sits down to explain their relationship. if you squint real hard, you might be able to put the pieces together of why she’s so pissed.
> 
> anyway, putti son (or in the fic, aka rythian junior). putti son lives with minty on elpis. because minty knows that off worlders are liable to freak if they see a floating alien bean following her, putti son doesn’t get to see much of elpis. guardians are biomechanical constructs, so putti son’s emotions and capabilities are a complete mystery. also, when rythian adopted putti son, it basically confused the other guardians. if rythian can speak eridian, he must be okay. also, one of ours is following him around, so yes, let’s leave him alone. the eridians never took into account that a human could ever speak their language. 
> 
> did you know i spent about an hour watching guardians in eleseer to figure out putti son. i also figured out that eridians must have some funky vocals to click, chirp and a whole range of other vocalisations. it sounds insect-like to me, so that’s what i’m rolling with. just imagine rythian making those sounds when practicing. you’re welcome. don’t worry, putti son will make a reappearance in fics.
> 
> i definitely liked writing minty. losing her arm is the turning point in her life. she eventually recovers (as per her appearance in ‘tlvh’) but never really forgives teep. that’s okay, teep gets it. both have done pretty awful things in their lives to get where they are, so that’s also why they got along so well (or not).
> 
> as for rythian, this marks the first disappearance. ravs and teep will deal with that next chapter. HOWEVER. the next chapter will be hatfilms’ final one, so teep’s will be picked up again in the following month or the month after.
> 
> thank you for reading, as always. the doodles done by the always cool siins can be found over here in the [tag](http://borderlandscast.tumblr.com/tagged/beyond-the-borderlands%3A-a-bullet-with-your-name-on-it)!


	3. a lie for a lie destroys lives.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> teep settles into life on pandora while awaiting the arrival of hybridpanda and saberial. the life of an ex-vault hunter isn’t glamorous but teep makes do with what they have. they don’t have a lot but it’ll do. their patience’s about to pay off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on top of the usual bullet fest and the punching, this chapter features several things! there’s multiple moments of suicidal behaviour in the form of risk-taking (such as going back into a burning building, jumping off cliffs, bad duels), implied ptsd and depressive states, and alcoholism involved. there’s also an instance of eye gore, near the end. there’s also someone who deals with some internalised homophobia (who eventually comes to terms with it).
> 
> let’s get on with characters making terrible decisions. please heed the warnings and if i’ve missed anything, let me know.

Teep registers the distinct creak of floorboards between them and the hallway leading to Ravs’ bedroom. The floorboards hold their breath as the living room’s surveyed. Teep throws off the nest of blankets hiding them to confront the intruder. If it’s another robber, they’re in for a rude awakening that breaking, entering and stealing’s a no-no.

Rythian teleports halfway across the room before he realises that it’s them and not a threat. When he does, he teleports back, looking painfully relieved that it’s not Ravs returning.

Annoyed that nobody’s dying today, Teep scratches the back of their head. They tug their hood back into place in one practiced motion. The drawn shadows lounging across the couch prevents Rythian from glimpsing any more of their form than he needs to. If they hadn’t moved, he’d be none the wiser to their presence.

A clock ticks. It’s one of Ravs’ latest, useless finds, likely dug up from a junkyard or the antique dealer just a couple of miles down the road. It measures thirty seconds, the hands tracing a shaky circle around its face. During that time, Rythian lowers his hand, glances at the floor, the window, the clock, anything to avoid looking directly at Teep.

If he’s still guilty (and he’ll always be, because that’s the kind of person he is, shouldering the blame for events that hadn’t even been his fault), Teep is going to sit on him until he’s not. That’ll take years, and Teep doesn’t have years. Teep’s got until  _ a _ future happens.

All they’ve got is one fragment of a vision to wait on. In the meantime, it’s just a fucking lot of waiting. At least Teep’s used to it.

“I’m leaving.” The silence is finally broken by Rythian’s casual statement. He gives a tiny, defiant toss of his head, as if daring Teep to stop him. He’s a fool to think it, and an even bigger moron to want it.

His new haircut highlights the pale streak that’s starker than usual, the one running down the middle of his hair. The connective port on the left side of his head glints as the light from outside hits it. Throughout the conversation, his eyes remain wary and alert, flicking to the furthest shadows and back to Teep. It’s like he thinks they’re under constant watch, paranoid about being overheard (but by ‘who’, is the question).

“Go ahead,” Teep signs, flicking their gloved hands for extra dismissiveness. A sarcastic wave’s tacked on. “Bye.”

“You’re not going to stop me?” Rythian eyes them as he would a bandit who isn’t going to pounce on an unattended crate of premium grade rations.

Holding up a hand, Teep reaches for one of their most prized possessions. In their inventory, they find a set of identical combat knives lifted from one of Dahl’s arctic, private armouries. They pull out their favourite, easily identified by a horizontal notch on the black handle, flicking it out of its sheath to look at it.

Teep ensure all their knives stay sharp, including the ones they don’t use. With so much free time and little else to do, it helps ease boredom. The blue edge almost appears cyan in the dawn light peeking through the living room’s window. The knife’s sheathed and tossed to Rythian.

He catches it in one hand, staring at it. The way his head tilts to search Teep tells him that he hadn’t expecting any sort of other parting gift; sharp words perhaps, or an empty plea asking him to stay, but not a weapon to arm him for his journey into the unknown.

“Goodbye, my friend.” Rythian attaches it to his belt, where it hides under his new coat. Turning, Rythian leaves his two best friends behind.

The front door closes. Teep waits. After a while, they lock it. Ravs won’t be happy when he returns to find Rythian missing.

\--

– / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / –

DiNoScope: i got your package

GodOfArrows: well what do you think

FiZone: please tell us what you think of it

DiNoScope: its headphones with cat ears on them

GodOfArrows: congrats youre a furry now

FiZone: IT WAS JOHN’S IDEA BC YOU KEPT CHOOSING THE CAT EARS FOR YOUR CHARACTER

GodOfArrows: PUT THEM ON

DiNoScope: you cant see it but imagine me venting it out the airlock

FiZone: RUDE

GodOfArrows: those cost me money

DiNoScope: and good gift sense doesnt cost you assholes anything

\--

The hospital room will never cease to smell like antiseptic, or some sort of chemical that leaves Saberial feeling as if she’s a hundred times grubbier than she really is. The electronic calendar bolted to the nurse’s station bulletin board tells her that it’s been three months since Panda moved wards.

Saberial runs down her mental list of Panda’s accrued damage: damaged spine, one destroyed kneecap and fractured leg, busted wrist…the list went on for half a page.

In a different century, Panda might never walk again. In this era, Panda’s endured several back to back surgeries for full replacements and printed, tissue matched reconstructions, including removals for what couldn’t be saved.

For a Dahl controlled planet, Hecatoncheires’ largest hospital is livelier than Saberial expected. She couldn’t have asked for a better place for Panda to recover in. The ward she enters is outfitted in rosy pinks and sky blues. It reminds her of a place where babies are born. Maybe it’s meant to calm patients.

The sandy-haired Dahl nurse in charge of Panda fills her in on the details with every visit. She’s a woman edging out of middle age. Her name starts with ‘z’ and ends with an ‘a’; it’s an unusual name. Saberial doesn’t ask about the two black dog tags grouped with the silver, identifying ones worn around the nurse’s neck. It indicates that the nurse’s lost two people dear to her, who’d served in the Dahl military.

In spite of having to be sorely reminded of Panda’s brush with death whenever the two meet, Saberial likes her. The nurse’s firm, practical demeanour could get Panda to eat when all they wanted to do is sleep off their latest round of drugs and painkillers.

“You can’t heal on an empty stomach,” The nurse firmly reminds, setting up an adjustable table for Panda. Panda refuses to let her help them sit up, using their elbows for leverage. They tug their hospital gown to save Saberial from glimpsing the stitches running up one arm.

Today’s meal is crumbed schnitzel with peas, corn, mashed potatoes and gravy. Dessert’s jelly sealed in a transparent plastic tub. The label declares it as ‘berry’ flavor with a white layer of yoghurt at the bottom. 

Saberial helps the nurse lay out all the food and eating utensils, standing by if Panda needs any help. Panda had grunted a greeting when she’d strode in. She’s used to it, getting that they’re not talkative these days.

Grimacing, Panda stabs a plastic fork into the tub of jelly, ripping the lid off. Their right hand’s fitted with a brace that interferes with holding the tub. Panda grudgingly switches to their left hand.

The nurse beams at their progress, leaving once it’s clear that they didn’t need help digging in. Saberial drags a chair over. It’s a private room Panda’s in, so they didn’t have to put up with other patients being a bother.

Saberial uses the moment to lean forward, asking in a hushed voice, “How many surgeries have you applied for?”

“If you’re worried about cost, it isn’t even denting my funds.” Panda scrapes the fork around the inside of the tub, fishing out the last of the yoghurt. They start on the schnitzel. The fork separates the peas from the gravy. This is an improvement; they hadn’t touched any food in the first week, too knocked out to attempt it.

“Panda.” Saberial leans back. “You can make up a number, but I need to tell mom something or else she’ll fly here to ask you herself.”

Panda’s expression doesn’t betray any fear at having mom rock up to the hospital in person. Saberial remembers how formidable she is, and how likely it is that an argument between her and Panda will worsen the rift. Other mom’s staying neutral despite the pressure to pick a side. Saberial’s other siblings use distance to stay on both parties’ good side.

It doesn’t help that Panda’s on bad terms with the rest of the clan for helping Saberial destroy that artifact, plus sticking by their choice of current career. That’s where being one of the best didn’t necessarily help. Also, Panda refusing to accept visitors aside from close friends and Saberial polarised relatives.

Her words has Panda putting down the fork. Chewing, Panda watches her with the expression that she associates with ‘talk, or I shoot you in the hand’. Fortunately, the hospital has a ‘no weapons’ policy and measures in place to stop incidents.

At last, Panda swallows. They tell her a number. “It’s real. You can tell mom that I’ve had less if it stops her worrying.”

Saberial stares at them, her mind reeling. “You can’t keep pushing yourself like this!”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to get out of here!” Panda snaps. Without the eyepatch hiding it, their cybernetic eye glares right at her. The pupil expands and contracts as Panda harshly breathes, their flash of temper over.

“This isn’t like you!” Saberial argues. Panda’s never risked so much to get back into fighting shape. At this rate, they’ll be addicted to adding modifications, not helped by the mix of pain dampening drugs they’re currently on.

“Of course it’s not like me, I’ve had my new leg replaced twice because the first one didn’t plug in right, the second nearly killed me due to an allergic reaction, my lower spine’s mangled to Circe and back, I still can’t write without my right hand going nuts, I need help pissing, shitting and everything, basically, just  _ fuck _ me!” Panda’s explosion leaves her lost for words.

She has to accept that this bitter, moody and upset version of Panda’s here to stay. It’s still Panda. Nothing could change that. 

It has her reaching across to hug them. It’s tricky with the table in the way, but Panda pushes it aside to allow the hug. They don’t cry but wrap their arms around her, staying that way for a bit.

“I’m sorry.” Saberial cares. They know it, even if they forgot sometimes.

“I’m sorry too.” Panda yawns, letting her go to lie down. 

Saberial can see that they’re not letting her see how much it hurts them to move or sit up, pretending that their broken body’s still in one piece. She tucks them in, ignoring the grumbles that ‘she’s taking the role of big sis too seriously’.

\--

Panda doesn’t need no fucking permission from the hospital to know when they’re ready to leave. They get dressed in the dark room, packing everything of theirs into their inventory. Nothing’s left behind. Good, it’s time to leave. They’ve been here for too long and if it weren’t for the overcautious doctor, they’d have left two weeks ago.

They limp down the corridor, eventually switching to a stride as they arrive at the reception. Panda looks like any other visitor, minus the plastic hospital bracelet they’re still wearing around one wrist. In a matter of minutes, Panda’s back in their ship and taking off. 

They did leave a signed card for the nurse who’d overseen their recovery, along with an I.O.U. if she ever needs a job from Panda’s clan.

Logging in, Panda throws Saberial out of the chat before greeting their old crew. Responding generically, Panda scans the list of who’s present. There’s someone Panda wants to talk to, in particular. Yes, they’re online. They ECHO Flax.

“Flax, where’s Teep?” Panda doesn’t need to waste time asking. Flax’s been in know ever since they lost a work buddy to collateral damage during one of Teep’s hits.

“Heading towards this warp point, as of half an hour ago.” Flax’s voice is difficult to decipher through the voice modulator. Panda’s used to it; they’ve met in person before and they get that Flax isn’t exactly friends with everyone.

“Where’d you get that intel from?” Panda checks the amount of fuel onboard, turning on autopilot. Weapons are next on the checklist.

“This one’s a lucky find. I was browsing the feeds around Triton when one of my traffic buddies flagged me.” Flax sounds proud. “No fee for this one, as usual. Congrats on getting out of the hospital, by the way.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah, whatever.” Panda just feels a cold, cold rage flood their insides at being reminded why they’re pursuing Teep. “Thanks, catch you later.”

\--

The mining facility based on Hecate is in the middle of being locked down. Meeting with the facility’s owner armed Saberial with detailed knowledge of the building’s blueprints. Security footage reviews add on extra variables in the form of hostages and their jailers. 

Saberial finds it pays well (pun not intended) to go in as prepared as possible, even if it makes her look like a try hard in all the other mercenaries’ eyes. Dressed in a dark uniform intended to reduce that tell-tale flash of movement, Saberial levers the ceiling panel loose from the roof and climbs in.

The ECHOnet crew and police stay at the edge of the facility. The constant updates fill one corner of Saberial’s HUD. It’d been decided that she goes alone rather than in a team. She’d have liked a team, but the risks for this job rises with extra people.

So far, there’s sixty hostages total. That includes the CEO’s daughter. The negotiators outside are dealing with haggling. The ransom currently sits at a trillion dollars. In about an hour, if the company doesn’t pay up, it’s goodbye, one hostage at a time. 

Saberial’s proud to charge not as much for taking on this job. Even if she fails, she’ll still get paid. Not that she plans on failing, that is.

It doesn’t make sense for such a high security facility to be overrun in a matter of minutes. Saberial’s lengthy review of the footage got interrupted midway. Maybe someone had jammed it, starting the situation. She crawls through the roof.

She kicks in a panel once she’s at her designated landing point, hopping down. The hallways are clear; all the assailants are in the refinery room, one of the industrial sections. Saberial pulls her assault rifle from her back sling, moving down the corridor.

A brief blip on her radar has her pressing against a doorway. Saberial waits. Nothing else appears on her HUD. She swears this happens twice more, ducking to safety with every scare.

Putting it behind her as a product of her imagination, Saberial soon arrives at the uppermost floor overlooking the hostage room. Fiddling with the locked door lets her in (thanks, Teep, for reaching her extra tips on how to deal with locks; she still misses them, whenever she does stunts like these).

The hostages are all gathered against one wall, sitting or kneeling. A few weep and rock on their heels. Others stare into space, bleak eyed and impassive. Some comfort others with soothing whispers, huddling close. With the help of a sniper rifle, Saberial finds her highest priority hostage, and clenches her jaw. 

_ A Siren.  _

No wonder why they’d needed so many hostages; had it been a regular person, they’d have let out the rest and kept the ones that mattered. Because it’s a Siren they’re dealing with, the hostages serve as a shield and an incentive to obey.

The Siren is dressed in an expensive blue suit, hands clenched and cuffed behind her fact. Her facial tattoos flex in agitation. A squad of armed guards watch over her. She’s unharmed, though the loathing expression on her face could set the guards on fire with one look.

Switching guns back, Saberial rises, taking note of the other guards’ positions in the room. With the element of surprise on her side, Saberial pops out of cover and fires off five shots. Five guards tumble off the walkways, bodies thumping onto the factory floor below.

Hostages shriek and scream. Bullets slam into her cover. Saberial ducks, reloading. She pops out of cover, killing another ten guards with headshots. The hostages flow to the other side away from all the gunfire. In the confusion, she nails a few guards who try to execute the hostages.

The Siren launches herself at the nearest guard, kicking them in the shin and shoving them off the platform. She attacks the other guards watching her.

Saberial spies a guard dragging a hostage by the hair towards the grinder. It doesn’t make sense how a few seconds later, the hostage is untying themself, sobbing while the guard is headless, body flopping off the bridge. The hostage stumbles after the others making their way to freedom.

“Did my Mother send you?” The Siren catches up with Saberial, shoulder ramming a guard to send them plummeting to their death (with a terrified scream).

“Yes!” Saberial doesn’t have time to tell them much more. She’s too busy firing and reloading between taking cover. “Gimme your hands!”

The Siren obeys. She flinches when Saberial slices through the handcuff’s chain with the gun’s razor sharp bayonet. “Thanks!” The Siren automatically scoops up a dropped gun and opens fire on the remaining guards. Saberial’s impressed by this. Other people would have been utterly useless or lost their heads.

The guards turn to shoot at the remaining hostages, figuring that there’s nothing left to lose. The Siren frowns, raising her left hand. 

An oozing, spiked purple tentacle emerges from the room’s wall, forming a horizontal blockade. It impales a guard, shaking the walkway to dislodge the dead body. 

The hostages press against the exit, all their screaming intensifying at the sight of the tentacle. The tentacle soaks the bullets directed at it, twisting to seek the sources of pain.

Saberial can’t stare for too long, distracted by another sight. A dark red shadow flits between the vats of bubbling metal, battling the guards on the other side.

Saberial ignores the ladder, vaulting over the railing to confront the last set of guards. The guards bunch up. Faced with an unknown assailant, a pissed off Siren and a professional mercenary, they surrender. Guns are laid down.

The unknown assailant steps out of the shadow. Saberial snaps her gun’s sights to them, not flagging them as a friendly or any neutral party she knows. 

It’s an Atlas assassin. They're supposed to be mere rumours. Still, here one stands. She’s holding a straight sword slick with blood, her armoured suit also painted with it. A head rolls in a circle on the grates behind her.

“Siren, I need you to come with me.” Her voice through the helmet is calm, an eerie monotone.

“Why?” The Siren demands. The gun in her hands wavers, between the guards staring at her and the assassin, like she’s not sure who she should consider the bigger threat.

“Atlas is in dire need of your services.”

“I don’t think Atlas needs tentacles,” The Siren promptly states. “Besides, don’t you have enough Sirens?”

“We could always use another.” The assassin pauses. “Your Mother will be well compensated for your cooperation.”

“Just wondering, but is she with you?” The Siren mutters to Saberial.

Saberial shakes her head. “No, I came here alone.”

“Thanks for your offer, but I’m happy where I am!” The Siren shouts.

“I see. Then we do this the hard way.” The assassin somersaults towards the guards, decapitating all five of them in one swing before lunging at Saberial.

The Siren gasps, then roars, swinging her left hand. A nest of flailing tentacles blocks the assassin’s path. Saberial rolls out of harm’s way, bringing her gun up to fire.

The assassin traverses up the longest tentacle’s undulating length, flipping at the top to slice down. Saberial thrusts her bayoneted rifle into the blade’s path, barely blocking it. The assassin lands, swinging from the side. Saberial brings out her combat knife, the attempted blow glancing off and making her hand numb with the impact.

“Run!” Saberial grounds out at the fuming Siren behind her. “I’ll deal with her!”

“I’m not leaving–” The Siren protests, closing the portal to the tentacles before the tentacles mistake Saberial for an enemy. Purple goo drips along the railings, audibly plopping onto metal.

“You’re worth more alive!” Saberial gasps, partially as a joke and because holy fuck, Atlas assassins are stronger than they look. The assassin’s got her locked in a standoff, sword catching on the bayonet.

The assassin kicks Saberial in the leg. Saberial grunts, her shield taking the damage. The assassin pulls back to slash wildly at her. Saberial’s shield absorb the multiple blows, the blue field flickering like a dying lightbulb.

The Siren sprints across the bloodied walkway towards the open exit. The assassin fires a length of weighed anchors from a bracer. It spins through the air, towards the Siren’s ankles. Saberial snaps off a shot, firing from the hip. The anchors deflect, wrapping around a railing instead. The Siren keeps running, leaving bloody footprints.

Irritated, the assassin turns back to Saberial, who sheepishly grins and shrugs. Saberial dodges the next blow (which scars the platform) by sidestepping it. The assassin cartwheels out of the path of her bullets. 

Saberial wonders if Teep’s ever fought an Atlas assassin before. This seemed like their kind of fight, and one they’d immensely enjoy. Panda would hate this, having to think so tactically (but she knows that they’d secretly enjoy it too).

Pushing all thoughts of her friend and sibling out of her head, she refocused on the fight. In a melee based fight like this, she can’t reload or shoot. She can only use her bayonet and knife to block and deflect. There’s no chance to fight back. Essentially, she’s buying time for the Siren.

Whether or not Saberial will survive depends on how well she can hold against the assassin’s increasingly aggressive assault.

“Why do you need her, the Siren?” Saberial grunts. Panda’s not answering their ECHO device. It’s infuriating because she could definitely use the help right now. Even if Panda’s due to leave hospital later, the least they could do is send reinforcements.

“The Siren is an asset that must be retrieved at all costs,” The assassin states. There’s the tiniest, passive-aggressive inflection on ‘all costs’.

“You tried asking a little more nicely?” Saberial’s not one to be cocky, but in a situation like this, it’ll help distract the assassin from noticing that Saberial’s defense is faltering.

“I tried that. It failed miserably, no doubt thanks to you.” The assassin can’t keep this up forever either. The two of them are, after all, human to the core. Unless those other rumours about Atlas using human turned robots are true.

“But  _ why _ do you really need her?”

“Because failure is not an option!” This answer is snarled, backed up with a one-handed swipe out of nowhere. Saberial’s knife gets sent flying. Her shield falls to a precise stab to the gut.

Left open to an attack, Saberial braces for pain. The sword fails to decapitate her, slicing across her collarbone and the front of her shoulders. She’s not ashamed of gasping. The initial gush of blood’s unpleasant, exaggerating how deep it is; it doesn’t  _ look _ or  _ feel _ shallow, to Saberial.

The blade turn in the assassin’s hands, readying for the final blow. The tentacle spawning underneath the assassin’s feet has her diving, forgetting about finishing off Saberial. 

“You don’t need to fail!” cries a voice. The Siren is standing on the platform, her face a bright red. Saberial’s heart sinks at her decision to stay behind. “You don’t have to go back to Atlas if you don't want to!”

“Atlas does not accept failure.” The assassin brandishes her sword in a fighting stance, rising. Saberial lifts her gun (even if she’s going woozy already), sidling towards the Siren.

“There’s always another option!” The Siren fiercely insists.

“What other options?”

“Put your sword down, and I’ll help you figure it out.”

“What is there for me?”

“Well, you don’t have to do this sort of thing anymore?” The Siren’s argument is weak, but the assassin’s sword wavers with this new option. “You can wear something else other than that tacky armour, eat whatever you want,  _ do _ whatever you want to do…”

“Do I have to kill people?”

“No! Not if you don’t want to.” The busted handcuffs around the Siren’s wrists jingle.

“I would like that.” The assassin lowers their blade. Saberial dives at her, pinning her down with the bayonet held to her throat.

“Run! I’ll keep her down!” Saberial snaps. 

The assassin lets Saberial pin her, letting the sword fall from her hand. “I surrender.” Saberial sends the sword spinning across the floor, checking that she’s really disarmed. 

“Wait!” The Siren grabs the sword. “If the police come in here and see you, they’ll kill you.”

“Then what do you propose?” The assassin calmly asks. “I cannot go back to Atlas for failing, and I cannot leave without being seen and shot at, on sight.”

“Take off your armour,” Saberial instructs, her eyes landing on the vats of melted metal.

“I beg your pardon?” The assassin’s helmeted head snaps onto Saberial.

“Gimme your armour.” Saberial lets her get up.

The assassin complies, beginning a magnificent striptease; the Siren covers her eyes, blushing. Saberial watches for any subtle trickery. Fully stripped, the assassin’s standing in plain black jumpsuit of some kind that hugs her body. In her hands is her helmet and armour. Her digistruct modules remain clipped to her waist.

She has red hair, cropped close to her head in a buzzcut. Her stunned expression grows when Saberial snatches up the armour, lobbing it into the nearest vat of melted metal.

“There, you’re now dead,” Saberial pants. “You accidentally fell in. Even Atlas assassins make mistakes.”

“I tried to kill you.” The assassin frowns. “I nearly succeeded. Why are you helping me?”

“Frankly, being stuck with killing people sucks,” Saberial points out. “And well, with a story like that, I couldn’t help but be moved.”

“I shall have to try harder next time,” The assassin states, with a small smile.

“Here, put this on!” The Siren is tearing off her suit jacket, handing it to her. The assassin takes it, wrapping it around her shoulders. ”You were a hostage. You stayed behind and bravely helped us. What’s your name?”

“My name is Chrissa.” The assassin picks up a gun off the floor, wiping some of the blood sticking to the barrel onto her face. “And I’m now in your debt.”

“All good?” Saberial grins, at the Siren and Chrissa. “Wake me when I’m about to get paid.” She ungracefully sinks onto the floor, the blood loss getting to her at last.

\--

Saberial is beginning to sympathize with Panda’s situation. She’s had stitches put in to hold the gash across chest together. It’ll scar. She’s not as upset by the news. What kind of mercenary would she be if she let scars traumatize her? 

The ECHOnet is buzzing with news about the hostage situation on Hecate. A few people are blaming the Siren for being the cause of said situation. Others praise her for helping save the hostages. Saberial left behind an autograph but hadn’t ran into the Siren or Chrissa again. Saberial has other important matters on her mind.

With painkillers dampening all and any feeling across her chest, Saberial pilots her ship to where Panda’s having their latest dogfight, courtesy of Pyrionflax’s latest tip off.

It doesn’t take her long to reach the scene. Panda and the other ship are spinning and weaving in and out of the remains of a residential space station that’s a relic of the Corporate Wars. 

With a chilling jolt, she recognises the ship that’s under fire. It’s ‘Greenman’, which belongs to Teep.

Teep’s not firing back, staying on the evasive. Panda’s doing their damned best to lock on; Teep’s using the debris to their advantage, letting the obstacles block Panda’s shots. Until Panda’s deterred, there’s no way Teep can make the jump to escape.

Saberial can almost sense Panda’s frustration; they must think that Teep is toying with them. She pushes her ship to maximum speed, choosing a vector where Panda can’t spot her until it’s too late. She barely has time to message Teep.

> teep, fly straight into the open

> please trust me

There’s no acknowledging message. Teep must have their hands full with dodging. There’s no time, Panda hailing her.

> SHOOT THEM WHEN I DRIVE THEM OUT

Panda’s assuming that she’ll open fire on Teep, an advantage she’s counting on having for this particular stunt. She leaves her vector, hopping onto another to pop up in front of Teep.

Barely a second later, their ship abandons the safety of the station’s obstacle ridden field. One of Panda’s shots punches through the hull, where Saberial guesses that the drives are located, decreasing the chances of Teep’s escape. Teep stays on course.

They still trust her.

All three ships are on a collision course, with hers heading straight for theirs. She can see Teep in the pilot’s seat, both hands gripping the controls. Teep locks gazes with her.

As both ships are about to smash into each other, Teep executes a backflip, revealing Panda’s ship behind theirs.

Panda’s eyes widen. They duck below, breaking whatever weapons lock they had on Teep’s ship. Teep’s ship blips out of her radar (and Panda’s). Saberial rights her ship to pull up alongside her sibling’s. The two ships float in space.

The local channel opens between her and Panda. “I nearly had them!” Panda snarls, practically livid with rage. “Why didn’t you fucking  _ shoot _ ?” Their cybernetic eye dilates to a pinprick as they try to scan the stars for Teep. Unfortunately, Teep’s gone.

“What if I’d missed?” Saberial fires back, kicking her seat’s lever so that it’s no longer back breakingly upright.

Her hands flex against the armrests. The ache in her chest makes her head spin, from the painkillers and the suspense of being unable to believe that she’d succeeded–and Panda doesn’t know any better. They don’t know that she’d done it on purpose, and she’ll happily do it again.

“You never miss!” Panda’s confidence in her abilities would have been wonderful to hear, on any other day. It’s a shame that she can’t say the same of them after the hostage mission.

“But if I  _ had? _ ” Saberial undoes her headband. It’s soaked with sweat. She throws it over her shoulder so it lands on the retracted cot bolted to one wall. Panda can choose to interpret her current state as being distressed. She’s secretly relieved. “I nearly lost you again!”

Panda’s frustrated silence doesn’t last long, and neither do their outbursts. “I had them. I was  _ this _ close.” They indicate it by holding up a hand, pinching thumb and index finger together.

Saberial slams a hand onto the armrest. The sound has Panda glaring at her. “Is this where you were when I tried to ECHO you earlier?”

“I  _ was _ in the hospital,” Panda hastily says.

“Is  _ this _ the hospital?” Saberial observes, indicating the space around the two of them. “This doesn’t look like the hospital.”

Panda shifts in their seat. “I got discharged.”

“No you didn’t. I checked.” Saberial trains her gaze on them. “The nurse reported that you left your room early and didn’t come back. Shortly after, a little bird told me that your ship was spotted arriving here. It’s amazingly coincidental how Teep happened to be hiding in the same area.”

“Alright, I didn’t get discharged.”

“Is your leg hurting?”

“...A little.” The admittance has Panda gritting their teeth. She can see them massaging their leg.

“Then  _ maybe _ you should come back to the hospital with me, and get it checked out.”

“No, I don’t need to go back–” Panda insists.

“Well,  _ I _ do. I need to check if I popped my stitches dragging your fucking ass out of this mess.”

“Wait, what happened? Why do you have stitches?” Now Panda looks faintly worried, peering at her to see what’s wrong.

“I ECHOed you for help.” Saberial lets her voice go frosty. “You didn’t respond.”

“Saberial, I’m sorry–” Panda’s realisation has them sitting up in their seat.

“Don’t.” Saberial mutes Panda. She can see their mouth moving through their ECHO screen, choosing to bury her face into her hand. Hopefully that’s enough time for Teep to dock and check the damage to their ship.

If she plays this right, Panda will think that she’s mad at them; they’ll do whatever she asks of them, until they think she’s not.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

MintyMinute: Saberial, I know you haven’t heard from me in a long, long time. Not that a few months is a long time. It can certainly feel like it. Anyway, before I ramble about pointless shit, like how you’re doing, how I’m doing, the weather, or the current state of affairs on Eden-5, or anything else neither of us cares about, I got a few things to get off my chest.

If you want to stop listening at any point, feel free to do that. I don’t blame you one bit if you feel horrible from me suddenly cutting you loose, but if I’m gonna ask you for anything, it’s to listen to me until this finishes.

...Still here? Atta girl.

First, I’m sorry. Really, I am. Second, I killed a guy. Third, I don’t regret it. Fourth, it felt fucking fantastic. Fifth, I’m off to Pandora since the cops apparently don’t like murder. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life being pushed around by people who want to fuck with my ambitions. Sixth, you ever feel like dropping in on me for that heart to heart talk I still owe you, I’m always open to it.

Seventh, you’re a real darling, and I’m still sorry I vanished into thin air and left you hanging.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

– / / SEND? YES/SAVE/NO? ‘NO’ SELECTED...DELETING…LOG DELETED. / / –

\--

“Teep? You in here?” Ravs eases past the front door, polished and sanded wood squeaking. The chances of getting a response is minimal, but he still announces his presence out of habit. Surprising Teep had terrible consequences. “I have grub!”

The welcome mat’s been tucked back into place when he wipes his boots. A mountain of dust and dirt cascades forth. When he lifts up a corner, it’s been taped underneath so it doesn’t go sliding off to rest somewhere ridiculous (like underneath the kitchen table). 

The hallway table’s back in its proper place to receive any loose odds and ends he might have picked up when going out.

Hm, Teep’s not in the kitchen, nor the bedroom or the bathroom. The living room it must be, then.

Teep’s sprawled out on the floor like a hideous parody of a murder victim outlined in white chalk, jacket hood loose around their head. Irritatingly, their hair colour still evades Ravs, wriggling beyond his memory’s desperate attempts to remember.

“What did you do to yourself?” Ravs settles besides them. He could literally eat off the floor, the wood’s been attacked until it shines like one of Arsenal’s technical buffing jobs.

> i single-handedly endeavoured to clean your entire apartment in a classic fit of boredom to avoid killing myself because of another soporific afternoon

“I don’t understand half of what you just said.” Ravs isn’t worried about the fatalistic joke. Teep’s learned that if Ravs and Rythian show any concern, the jokes increased in quantity.

> it means you should fucking buy a mop and learn how to use it you dipshit

“Where did you even get the cleaning stuff? I don’t even have a bucket!”

> the neighbors didnt mind me borrowing their stuff

“You broke into the neighbour’s place.”

> its not like they use all that crap anyway since their place is worse than yours

“Hey now, I do sweep once a week.”

> yeah but that’s only because I’m crashing here i bet

“A little bit of dust never hurt anyone.”

> i was about to switch your welcome mat with a tumbleweed just to see if youd notice

“I actually like that mat, it was a housewarming gift from Nilesy.”

> i noticed

Said welcome mat has a terrible stitching of a lopsided, whiskered cat in one corner, the only empty space that Nilesy could customise.

Clean plates of fresh, hot takeout end up filling the space between the two of them. Ravs sets aside the third plate. He bought too much takeout (again). He still doesn’t know what Teep likes and dislikes, in terms of food. Well, he can sort of guess. It’s remarkable how Teep can pick up the slightest whiff of anything spicy and avoid it.

If he’s hoping to get a glimpse of Teep’s face, he’s disappointed. Without moving from their position on the floor, Teep randomly points to one box of takeout. Ravs commits to the unboxing, dutifully transferring the contents onto a plate with the help of a bent fork.

It’s fried noodles, done Pandoran style. It’s loaded up with black, fermented sauce that dribbled like an oil pump’s sprung a leak, smelled like the inside of a technical’s fuel tank, and took two full and elbow greased driven rinses in the sink to wash off. While bandits boasted a healthier appetite than most, Ravs hasn’t dared to try noodles a second time.

Past experience with that sort of dubious cuisine’s never boded well for his gut (and Daltos had laughed at him before refusing to play doctor, whereupon Minty and Arsenal had generously stepped in to help).

“Where do you want the plate?” When Ravs doesn’t get a response, he balances the plate and fork on Teep’s chest. Teep pushes their goggles up, turning their back on him.

Ravs nearly drops a takeout box. Teep sits up, taking the plate and fork in one hand. In the time since their eyes have healed up, they’ve never removed the goggles. They move to the other room with the plate.

He disguises his shock as finding the correct take out box that’s one of his. Lumps of meat rolled up in a yellow package roll out of the upturned box he upends to settle on the plate. He spears one, biting it in half.

He hasn’t seen Teep shoot a sniper rifle yet, though he’s seen the guns being disassembled and maintained every week. It’s been several weeks since Rythian’s decided that he doesn’t want the two to be a part of his life.

He knows plenty about Rythian, when Rythian’s responses weren’t cagey or vague. In comparison, he knows next to nothing about Teep. Well, that’s not true. Provided he pays attention, he knows a bit more than he once did.

\--

– / / GodOfArrows is no longer idle. / / –

GodOfArrows: fizone

FiZone: what?

GodOfArrows: i need some help

FiZone: what did you do?

GodOfArrows: remember the kitten i wanted

FiZone: the diamond one?

GodOfArrows: yeah

GodOfArrows: i found the kitten and went to get said kitten back

FiZone: and?

GodOfArrows: look some stuff happened

FiZone: what did you do????

GodOfArrows: ALRIGHT FINE there was another dude who wanted her and they had this weird grey skin and i tried to call dibs bc that kitten def recognised me

GodOfArrows: they laughed and called me a pegleg so i punched them

FiZone: youre not telling me sth here

GodOfArrows: fine i might have pulled a chainsaw on them too

FiZone: PANDA WTF

GodOfArrows: I JUST DID IT

GodOfArrows: I STILL DONT KNOW WHY

FiZone: WHY DID YOU HAVE A CHAINSAW ON YOU

GodOfArrows: I WAS GARDENING BEFORE I WENT OFF

FiZone: WHAT KIND OF GARDENING INVOLVES A CHAINSAW

GodOfArrows: THAT DOESNT MATTER

GodOfArrows: anyway i got arrested and i lost my kitten and chainsaw and now im in jail

FiZone: sigh

FiZone: ill come and get you 

GodOfArrows: thanks

\--

– / / TForce is no longer idle. / / –

TForce: Yo, you remember those coordinates you asked me to look into?

– / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / –

DiNoScope: you found something

TForce: Yeah!

DiNoScope: lets hear it, asswipe

TForce: Haha, you’re so fucking  _ funny _

DiNoScope: im a natural comedian

TForce: Hey

TForce: Do I still call you ‘Green’ or change to ‘Teep’ since you know

TForce: I know both your identities

DiNoScope: flax

DiNoScope: i know where you live

DiNoScope: and if minty wasnt in the way

DiNoScope: i would be in your shithole of an apartment right now

DiNoScope: leaning over your shoulder with a knife held to your sweaty neck and wondering what itll take this time to keep your mouth shut this time

TForce: ...Dude

TForce: I just wanted to know what to call you since it feels awkward calling you ‘Teep’ and we’re not really part of the same group anymore so ‘Green’ is just as awkward

– / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / –

TForce: I’m not telling anybody who you are

TForce: Normally I’d try to weasel my way out of this or get you to pay for my silence but

TForce: I’ve known you as one of my best buds for several years as ‘Green’

TForce: And tried to track you for just as long as ‘Teep’

TForce: So shit’s weird, man

TForce: You’re not my friend or an enemy

TForce: Don’t you dare log out on me again and claim you ‘fell asleep’ or else I’m telling Zylus to punch you in the face bc I know you don’t sleep

– / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / –

DiNoScope: call me whatever the fuck you want

DiNoScope: both of those wont matter in a few years

TForce: I NEED TO CALL YOU SOMETHING

TForce: Fine, ‘Teep’ it is

TForce: You seem to respond to that one better

DiNoScope: whatever

DiNoScope: you got that info on the training facility

TForce: Yeah, yeah, sending it right now

TForce: How’d you even know about it?

DiNoScope: i walked a thousand miles

TForce: FUCK

TForce: YOU MEME LOVING ASSHOLE

DiNoScope: :)

– / / DiNoScope is now idle. / / –

\--

Digistruct Peak is every bandit’s dream stronghold. It’s built on the northwestern coast of Pandora atop a towering mountain with slick, icy cliffs so steep that not even a Triton hoofclimber could climb. For anyone who wanted to, howling winds shearing against its plated walls from every direction at all hours. Digistruct Peak is as isolated as can be. 

It’s the perfect location for Teep to get back into shape.

Striding past a balcony with nothing to stop the drop to the lake beneath, Ravs shivers in spite of his leather jacket warding off the cold that’s getting reacquainted with his skin. Teep’s marker on his map paces around a room. He finds them crouched by a console, pawing through its insides.

> we need a power core from zylus to get the shield back up and running

“That can be done.” Keeping the power core’s serial number handy, Ravs leaves Teep to their job of tinkering, using the Fast Travel Network to arrive in T-Bone Junction.

The snow clinging to his hair and jacket earns a few amused glances from residents. Ravs finds Zylus’ house, and knocks. A check of his HUD tells him that Teep’s going to take a while getting the place back up and running. He can stay a bit to warm up in the desert town.

Unlike light fingered junkyard owners, Zylus parts with a spare power core without making a fuss. Ravs talks him into accepting a Mercenary Day dinner to ‘repay him for his generosity’. He leaves a red-faced Zylus, returning to Digistruct Peak.

Teep’s waiting by the generators. The power core plugs in without a hitch, the generators lifting the shield out of dormancy to raise it against the winds.

And so begins the two’s stay.

The first week’s filled with making it habitable again. Happy to have something to occupy himself with, Ravs eagerly throws himself into the task. Teep pieces together the machinery that’d let the two fight apparitions.

That said, their first session ends in an overwhelming victory. Ravs is sure that Rythian would be proud of their cooperation (after having been foiled by lack thereof in the past).

The two of them rest, sealing the best room shut against the pervasive cold to hoard as much warmth inside. The wall heaters makes the temperature climb until Ravs is forced to strip down to his kilt and boots. Had he been alone, he’d have been happy to go down to his birthday suit. Alas, since Teep is with him, he’ll just have to deal.

Teep’s curled up on a cot, facing the window. The aurora swirling through the sky plays with the sight of Elpis. Their hood’s down again. Ravs would very much like to run his fingers through their hair, giving them comfort that troubled people (even if they didn’t know it) craved.

The blankets covering Teep shift. He’s positive that at some point, he saw Zylus hanging those same blankets to dry on a washing line in T-Bone Junction.

Ravs settles on the other cot, digistructing a blanket of his own. It’s dark and snowing for days, but he nods off soon enough.

Teep stays awake, wondering if it’s a mere fluke that their own shooting’s improved without any apparent effort. They’re going to blame that one on taking a prolonged break. The other option’s testing what their damaged eye can do, aside from being a distraction.

It’s the fifth day. Teep and Ravs run the punishing gauntlet that Teep uncovered in their quest to adjust to sniping with one and a half functional eyes. This is one of the higher level settings. 

Working as a team, Teep and Ravs cycle through the areas, eliminating and avoiding death at every turn, working past the impulse to wait for their third team member to catch up.

During the downtime between areas, Ravs’ gaze always settles on Teep. He can’t help it, watching for a crack to appear, half-expecting it to show up where it’s least wanted. A single moment of weakness signals the point where a violent crumbling of a person follows. It happened all the time with bandits. With Teep, that never happens. Ravs keeps watching, intent on being around when the fall happens to lift them back up again.

Teep permits the close attention, acting unbothered by the searching glances Ravs throws their way.

Back in the fray, Teep’s retreated to an alcove, perching on a stone balcony, sniper rifle resting on the edge. It’s not the sleek, black Jakobs sniper rifle that Teep prefers, but an incendiary Maliwan one. 

Ravs knows shit about guns (and this is Arsenal’s department), saying nothing. He trusts that Teep knows what they’re doing.

The threshers stick to the low ground, tunneling arcs through the air, baleen wired snouts tipped high to sense Ravs approaching. Ravs snatches a thresher out of the ground. It spasms in his hands, the echoing rumbles of its distress peaking into a dissonant silence when he rips it in half. Another gets roasted to a crisp when a burning round sets it ablaze.

His shotgun intercepts a smaller thresher flanking him, blowing a hole in its side. A second shot takes off its head. The remaining threshers plunge forwards, five diving at the same time, tentacles extended. 

He lobs a grenade at the nearest one, its tail sending it back towards him. The explosion decimates half his shield. Grunting, Ravs rolls to avoid the last of the splash damage, emerging from it in a crouch. He gestures an ‘all-clear’ to Teep.

One thresher escaping the explosions surges up to meet him.

In the heat of the moment, Ravs forgets that Rythian’s not here to serve as their second sniper and personal threat detector; the thresher sluices through ground, tentacles erupting through soil. Spikes smashing into his midriff.

Teep’s decisive shot misses the thresher’s head. The thresher’s spikes pierces Ravs’ chest, traveling deep enough to reach his heart. 

Knowing that it’s fake didn’t lessen the impact. A real thresher would have continued bludgeoning him the second his shield fell. The one attacking him ceases to exist in an abrupt flash of light and pixels. 

Already fearing the outcome, Ravs turns his head to find Teep. Teep’s ‘dead’, leaning against the building, sniper rifle missing from their hands. A bandit’s holding them at gunpoint, rifle barrel aimed at their head.

His HUD flashes that the two if them are ‘dead’. Ravs reloads his shotgun, despawning it. Bandit gone, Teep joins him in their shared room to recover.

“It’s not like you to miss,” Ravs says, pouring himself a hot cup of coffee. Teep leaves sugar packets by his cup, passing to the other side of the room.

He leaves the kettle where it is (and he still hasn’t forgotten how Rythian takes his coffee, as black as the night when the moon’s hiding behind clouds). He’d relied on Teep’s nearly bottomless inventory to serve as the pantry. Sugar dissolves in the coffee, a welcome sweetness. He could easily blame his ‘death’ on missing on his morning coffee.

Teep gives him a sharp look. “If you hadn’t sucked at killing that thresher, you wouldn’t have died.” They conclude their signing with spread hands, indicating that they don’t give a shit about whether or not they fucked up.

“Rythian wouldn’t have missed,” Ravs spits. Teep throwing his own mistake back into his face stings, like the brief dab of alcohol on a wound. He’d expected an apology or admittance of error, not that.

“He isn’t here,” Teep snaps back.

“He wouldn’t have let me down either,” is Ravs’ retort.

“You let yourself down, so don’t shove the fucking blame onto me.” That just drives home how little they care.

“And you let Rythian leave!” Ravs slams his ‘#1 DAD’ cup onto the table. It doesn’t crack or break, living up to its Vladof construction.

“And?” The solitary, signed word has Ravs planting himself in front of him.

_ “Why?” _ They didn’t stop Rythian from leaving.  _ They didn’t stop Rythian from leaving.  _ Ravs doesn’t believe it, but he’s hearing it first-hand. His anger spikes, biting the back of his throat. He hadn’t stopped Rythian either.

“It’s his choice.”

“He made the wrong choice!” 

Rythian hadn’t waited to say goodbye. In his mind, Ravs replays his last evening with Rythian, over and over, hoping to find a scrap of reason behind the disappearance to absolve his own guilt for not acting sooner.

“It’s none of your fucking business.” It’s not like Teep to be so prickly either. The change in emotion shows in their signing. If Teep had been holding a knife, it’d have carved the air.

“It is, because he’s not ready!” Ravs refuses to believe that Rythian’s own, backstabbing thoughts finally won.

“Ready for  _ what?” _

“To be on his own!”

“You can’t choose for him.” Teep shakes their head, resulting in Ravs giving them a look of pained disbelief. “Where did he go?” Nothing. Teep doesn’t know. If they do, they’re not telling him or don’t trust him with the information.

“Why it is so important to you?”

“Because we’re his friends.”

Teep laughs in that unmissable, silent way of theirs. “You’re such a naive, optimistic idiot.”

Ravs punches them. 

The two of should be trying to help Rythian, not letting him go wandering to his death.

He’d been worried, worried about whether he’d driven Rythian away with all the flirting, the constant, carefully measured care as Rythian healed, on top of giving him space to the point that on some days, it feels like Rythian’s on Elpis and Ravs is on Pandora even if they’re only a room apart.

He  _ misses _ Rythian, misses him the way a smitten lover pines for their other half (or halves), except the two of them are closer, pressed together by their respective ordeals.

The time where Rythian had shown up, starving, in Ravs’ arena, faced with little choice but to participate for a second, slim chance at living. He’d won, and changed both their lives forever when Ravs had chosen to act, calling Minty’s lieutenant, Hollie, over to examine him.

The time where Rythian gone back for Ravs when Ravs’ gang turned on him after Rythian’s second victory, and always, thereafter, and vice versa.

The time where Ravs had thrown himself into the fray to deal with all those pirates near Oasis, and taken a bullet for Rythian’s sake. Rythian's words (and well, medical attention but that’s less poetic) kept him anchored to life.

The time where Ravs had stopped Rythian from throwing away a priceless burden. If he couldn’t carry it for Rythian, then the least he did was to make sure it never ended up on the wrong shoulders. Rythian’s so determined to keep it as his own that it worries Ravs.

The time where Ravs had dug all those eridium shards loose from Rythian’s damaged back marked a point where Rythian had to trust him, because if he hadn’t, he’d have  _ died _ . 

They’d trusted each other with their lives.

Rythian might be dead right now, and Ravs would have no way of knowing. Did Rythian feel that all that’s worth burning down and buried, all but forgotten until it’s too late?

Teep’s been there for many of those moments. How could they simply let Rythian leave? Maybe Ravs doesn’t know them as well as he thought he did. Actions accomplished what words couldn’t.

The punch cracks against Teep’s lower jaw. It travels back up Ravs’ arm from his knuckles, the jolt throwing itself against bone to sink in. He’s breathing hard, fist shaking like he’s just broken it; he hadn’t, but it felt like he just did.

His punch hadn’t budged Teep. Teep touches their jaw, a long, gloved finger slipping underneath the wrappings. They withdraw their finger, turning their back on Ravs.

“Teep, I’m–”

The door provides no resistance when Teep meets it with a violent, swift kick, The room floods with a wind so icy that Ravs’ bones prematurely ache, his teeth clicking from a suppressed chatter. Teep storms into it without fear. 

Ravs plunges into the wind after them. He knows Digistruct Peak after having trained on it for so long, but following Teep is a challenge of its own. He can no longer spot Teep’s hooded form navigate the alleys, foiled by wind and snow. 

Digistruct Peak’s shield is turned off to save on power when the two of them are inside, hence the blizzard. His own shield fights it, like he’s fighting to reach Teep.

When Teep slips onto the rooftop (how, in this weather), Ravs swears. He takes the lower path, letting the buildings protect him. When he finds the Fast Travel Station at last, it’s resetting into its folded pose.

They’re gone, gone like Rythian, and Ravs has nobody to blame but himself.

\--

Ravs tries to ECHO Teep. His attempts are met with a radio silence that smarts. Guilt drives him home; he can’t stand Digistruct Peak. Solitude is torture. He arranges to meet the agent who’d sold him the apartment. 

In the meantime, Ravs redecorates. He buys a few holographic frames from the pawn shop down the road (avoiding the perfectly functional one in T-Bone Junction), pushing a few pictures from his ECHO device over. The frames get pinned above his couch. He doesn’t display any of Teep and Rythian, though he misses them.

He tries not to remember the comfortable nest of blankets that once occupied the cushions, taking up one whole side, or the random scratch of pencil on paper in the kitchen which pauses in thought before continuing.

Breaking the habit of cooking for three and two is easier. He eats less; Rythian used to pick at his food when his appetite failed him. Ravs would finish off whatever he couldn’t stomach. Teep ate everything; he doesn’t recall if they ever asked for seconds (or more likely, stole).

Details and habits slip by Ravs, and when he amputates them out of his own, he thinks of how much the two mean to him.

It’s a waiting game, to see if he or Teep cave first.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Arsenal: Hey, hey,  _ Ravs, _ Ravsy, my darling, favourite, buff terror, it’s that time of the year again! I wanna start off by saying happy Mercenary Day, hope you’re having a great time wherever you are. Wanna know what I’m up to? I’m getting smashed on your moonshine! I don’t fucking know what you put in it this time, but that’s not the point.

The point is,  _ my _ point is, I  _ definitely _ had a point here, Daltos, help me out–shut the fuck up, I’m  _ not _ drunk calling Ravs. You didn’t hear it from me, no sirree. 

Daltos is on his fifth bottle, I’m on my sixth, we’re in his room watching cheesy ECHOnet shows, and it’s fucking  _ great _ . Minty’s taste in shows is hysterical and, she’ll probably murder me if I told her and I’d love it.

Burf to you too, Boner. Boner’s a happy, sleepy kraggon. Dunno who fed them–he–the coal, but–OH, you’ll never guess what, I figured out how to let Boner pick pronouns! First, you gotta get a bunch of cardboard and scribble...words on a buncha bits. Then, you let your kraggon walk over and sit on whatever piece of cardboard the lil guy wants to sit on, and Cant’s your saint. No more confusion! I’m a fucking  _ genius. _

Daltos says I should write a book, but I think he’s just being sarcastic, and we all know what happens to sarcastic assholes. That’s right, I try to kiss them–aw, he doesn’t want a kiss. I told him the kiss is from you. Welp, he doesn’t want your stinking kisses. Know what, I’ll take one for the team.

You know, kissing yourself’s a lot harder than it sounds.

An angel’s calling me! It’s Minty! She’s gonna tell me to knock off the drunk calls, I bet. Nope, she just wants to know why we started without her. Hey, you should rock up to the frigate and join us. We all miss you, Ravs, even the asshole who’s allergic to kisses.

Happy Mercenary Day. Here’s to free shit that came as part of the ration subs. This year, I got an evergreen freshener, like the one you hang from your ship mirrors. I ain’t rich enough to get my own ship, but you know, maybe your bud with no face might find it useful, that’s assuming they still got a ship, that is.

No takers? Fine, here you go, Boner. Freshen yourself up with this–you ate it. Of course you did. Anything in my hand is fair game. He looks so pleased with himself, I can’t be mad at him!

Hey Daltos, you still awake? No? Okay. I’m just gonna park my arm on you. That’s right, keep sleeping. Let’s see if you got any nudes on your device. Just kidding, his device is under lockdown in his inventory. See, he does learn! 

He’s also been looking for one of his boxer briefs for ages. If I don’t have them, Minty definitely doesn’t, but if you got them…nah! Ravs, you can’t have taken them! They wouldn’t fit you, ‘cause your hips don’t lie!

Real talk time. Ravs, when’re you gonna visit? I sound like your mother, and bless her, she’s amazing from what I heard, but yeah, I wanna know when’re you dropping by? Come on, man, I ain’t see your pretty face around here in months. What’s keeping you? If you keep doing this, I’ll keep leaving you messages until you get back to me.

It ain’t like you to play hard to get. Also, booze is all gone. That means it’s time to snooze. Seeya, you big softie. 

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

On Mercenary Day, Zylus appears at Ravs’ front door, carrying an insulated container full of food he’d cooked himself. Ravs hadn’t told him to bring anything except for himself and his appetite.

“May I come in?” In spite of having traveled with Ravs, Teep and Rythian for several months, Zylus still hesitates when it comes to intruding on others. He didn’t mind the random visits from the three to check on him.

Ravs is desperate for company, but it’d look sad if he appeared too eager. He opts for putting on a friendly, welcome grin and saying just as warmly, “Of course.”

“Where’s Rythian and Teep?” Zylus glances around, as if expecting to see the other two floating around Ravs’ apartment. The two should have been. Why they’re not has Ravs’ mood dipping. It’s not Zylus’ fault for noticing, of course.

“Out and about, exploring.” Ravs vaguely gestures. His heart can’t help sinking. Teep hasn’t dropped in on Zylus, and neither has Rythian. There’s a bit of comfort in that he’s not the only one the two have set aside. Still, Teep can’t possibly be mad at Zylus.

“They’re not coming?” Zylus doesn’t hide his disappointment fast enough.

“Who knows?” Ravs shrugs (and ouch, that’s a gesture he’s picked up from Teep). “The two don’t really care about that sort of thing.”

Convinced that he’s not a bother, Zylus steps into the space that Ravs proudly calls his own. With that, Ravs falls into the role of a generous host, giving Zylus a brief tour.

“And this is the  _ bedroom, _ the most important place in the apartment,” Ravs says, in a tone that Zylus can’t really ignore, what with Ravs’ hand resting against the small of his back. “Can I get you anything?”

The top of Zylus’ ears are pink by the time Ravs and Zylus return to the kitchen. “Thank you, but no–”

“Don’t be shy, taste my new moonshine–Zylus, don’t look so alarmed, it’s not as strong as Minty’s stuff.”

“If you insist,” Zylus mumbles. He adds his offering of food to the pile that Ravs plans on making for dinner.

“Hold on, I’m getting ECHOed.” Ravs immediately perks up upon seeing who it is. Zylus ducks into the living room to let Ravs have some privacy (and to calm himself). “Minty!” Ravs greets. “How’re you doing?”

“Happy Mercenary Day, you–” A long string of affectionate expletives follow. She’s drunk, or has to be. There’s party music thumping in the background. “Say ‘hi’ to your handsome uncle, Junior, that’s a good boy–” Clicking follows. “Alright, go and make sure nobody’s being a dick to Bluari–good kid. Hollie sends her greetings, she’s looking hopeful under the mistletoe so send her a kiss. Hollie, I’m just joking! I’ll kiss you real good later, if you want. No? Alright. Anyway.  _ Ravs.” _ She pauses to drink. A glass clacks as it’s put down. “Arsenal blow up your ECHO device yet?”

“I was asleep,” Ravs half-lies. He’d pretended to be browsing the grocery store for dinner items, too busy to answer. Arsenal had eventually given up. Ravs doesn’t like deliberately ignoring people. The Mercenary Day blues aren’t helping.

“Well! It’s not like you to start drinking without me.” Minty doesn’t sound that offended at him gaining a head start. “Zylus there yet?”

“Oh, he’s around.” Ravs’ mind blanks on a possible innuendo. He covers up the slight pause by inquiring, “You need to talk to him?”

Minty homes in on it. She sobers up, her light tone traded for a business-like one. “Alright, you never pass up a chance to make a dirty joke.”

“Might be coming down with something. Plague, possibly.” He feigns a throaty cough.

“Don’t make me come down there and shake you down for the real story, ‘cause I can and will,” Minty threatens.

“Can’t do that if Zylus is hostage,” Ravs points out. 

“I can hitchhike,” Minty bluntly says.

“From Elpis to Pandora?”

“You can do anything if you put your mind to it,” Minty quotes.  _ “Anything.” _

He scourges up a laugh. “I’m no professional spacewalker, but I don’t think you can survive not breathing by sheer force of will.”

“You  _ ain’t _ seen nothing yet.” Minty sighs. “Ravs, come on.”

“We were supposed to spend Mercenary Day together.”

“First, if you’d picked up your ECHO device on time, you’d know that Daltos–” Ravs thumbs his volume down on the off chance Zylus is eavesdropping. “–is well on his way to blacking out as of an hour ago. I love Arsenal but that boy’s a terrible enabler, and you know what they’re both like when drunk.”

“Is that why Arsenal kept trying to reach me ten times?”

“Wouldn’t put it past him to try. We all miss you.”

“He left me a ten minute long message where he said he wanted to stroke my face and everything below it.” Ravs would normally be touched. He is, but he’s not really feeling it, this time.

“Well, he’s got the right idea. You want some company?  I think I still got the magic touch.” Minty sounds so practical about offering.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll manage.”

“Ravs, if you feel lonely, you ask Zylus to bring you up here, and we’ll have a good time, yeah?” Minty laughs, not even sounding disappointed. “I’m pretty sure my current bed can handle the both of us this time.”

That specific memory causes Ravs to laugh along. “I forgot that happened!”

“I still think it was your fault!”

“Now look, I did find you a new bed in the end,” He retorts, indignantly. In a softer tone, he says, “I should be making that offer, not you.”

“My bad, didn’t mean to make you sad. We all need an offer sometimes, even you.” She adopts a lecturing tone. “Go easy on the booze, alright? Nobody’s around to resuscitate you this time, if you start once Zylus is gone.”

“I’m trying to.” Really, he is. Having people around to distract him stopped him from scratching the itch called ‘drink until the days blended together’.

“Later,” Minty bids. With the press of a button, she’s beyond his reach. Ravs momentarily grapples with the discombobulating feeling of being left to hang dry by almost everyone he knows.

Staring at his ECHO device for ten seconds isn’t going to help him prepare dinner with Zylus. With great reluctance (because Arsenal’s just dumped a one minute message on him), Ravs silences his HUD. There’s plenty of time left in the day to get to it, and Arsenal will understand.

Zylus is still in the living room when Ravs traipses in. Zylus’ gaze is fixated on the item clutched in one hand. Ravs spots the indent on the wall where a picture frame should hang. It’s in Zylus’ hand. Fingers grip the wood to the point of turning colourless, nails curled against the backing.

“You knew.” He looks up, lowering the frame. The image of a younger Ravs and Daltos laughing together wavers before vanishing, exactly like Ravs’ mood.

“I’m sorry, I meant to tell you, but–” Ravs is already rushing to find an explanation. The damage is already done before the apology’s complete.

“Obviously, you never got around to it.” Zylus drops the frame onto the couch where it settles, sinking slightly into the cushions.

“We’re not together anymore,” Ravs confesses. “Zylus, I met him a few months before I met you.” A stony silence is forming, cracking whatever trust Zylus had held in him. “Look, it would never have worked out–”

“It’s fine.” Zylus’ voice catches. “You don’t need to explain. I get it.”

“Zylus, I was trying to protect you–”

“I’m going home.” Zylus is in the hallway in a matter of seconds. Ravs reaches the door, spotting Zylus break into a sprint. He closes the front door, heading back to the living room.

Sinking on the couch, Ravs drags his hands through his hair and down his face. “ _ Fuck _ .” He reaches for his ECHO device, though not to contact Zylus.

\--

Zylus emerges in T-Bone Junction, bursting out of the Fast Travel building. A few people shoot him alarmed looks when he shoves past them, ignoring their Mercenary Day greetings. His front door is going to need a new hinge if he slams it shut that hard one more time. 

Getting undressed down to his undershirt (merely a t-shirt) and pants takes him a frustrating ten minutes; his hands are all over the place, every joint of his right hand aching like someone’s trodden on it.

He succeeds, burying himself under the covers and a pillow.

He hadn’t thought  _ he’d _ move on that quickly, onto another person. It’s not  _ fair _ ; Zylus is barely starting to find himself again and there  _ he _ is, destroying Zylus with one fond look directed at someone else.

His ECHO device flashes from the floor. Zylus doesn’t have to look at the name to know who’s calling. He ignores it. 

> Zylus?

BebopVox’s gentle nudge goes unanswered. In the relative dark and safety of the covers, he doesn’t have to worry about anything. 

> You have a guest.

Muting BebopVox takes about a second, done without any sort of foresight. He’ll unmute BebopVox in about half an hour; they should know to leave him alone to have his private moment.

A hand pats the top of the cover where his head is. Zylus stops breathing. The cover’s tugged off. His hand instinctively lashes out in a half-assed punch. A gloved hand swats it aside like he’s nothing more than a skag pup wanting to play with its older, grizzled elder.

“Teep?” Zylus scrambles back, forgetting about his pillow. The mess of covers slip off the bed from how fast his backpedaling occurs. “What–how did you get  _ inside _ my place?”

Teep settles, almost gracefully, onto the end of the bed, long legs folding over the edge. They lean to retrieve the covers and to toss Zylus his pillow. He catches it with his chest rather than his hands. The covers sprawl over his legs.

A thumb indicates the window. The curtain’s settling back into place over the closed frame. He hadn’t even heard Teep slip in, too caught up in his emotional turmoil to notice. BebopVox had also alerted him so it’s his own fault for not paying attention.

“You didn’t answer the door,” Teep points out. “I even rang the doorbell.” They mime pressing a button, if a touch pointedly.

“Sorry.” Zylus sniffs, already wanting to curl back up under the covers. “I didn’t hear it.” A wave of their hand dismisses the apology. “You can go, if you want. I’ll be fine. Eventually.”

Without looking at him, Teep strides from the room. Zylus stays in the bed, resetting the covers so that they smother his shoulders. A noise from the kitchen startles him. Abandoning his cosy blanket fort with regret, Zylus hurries into the room to check if anything’s broken (which isn’t like them).

Teep’s clicked on the kettle, waiting for it to boil. A boot impatiently taps against the tiled floor. Even with their arms crossed over their chest and staring at the kettle like it’s hiding a massive secret, Teep looks so intent on making a cup of tea that Zylus has to suppress a hysterical giggle.

He brings a spare mug over to join its fraternal twin. Teep waves it away; Zylus holds it in his hands, wondering what they’re up to. He gets his answer in a few minutes.

Teep pours a cup of tea, specifically handing it to  _ him _ by deftly switching it with the empty one in his hands, returning it (upside-down, as it was) to his sink’s drying rack. That hundred yard stare of theirs is focused on him; their arms are crossed again.

All this niceness (like treading on eggshells in his presence) rattles him, loosening the fragile composure he’s been trying to hold in place ever since he saw that picture.

“Why are you so  _ nice _ to me?” Zylus is tearing up against his own will. 

He doesn’t expect Teep to really answer, to brush him off like they do with any sort of vague inquiry posed to them. He’s not worth anybody’s time. They should be spending Mercenary Day with Ravs, not in T-Bone Junction babying him.

Teep drums a few fingers against their arm. “You’re cute,” They bluntly sign. “Not when you’re crying, though.”

“I’m not–” Zylus shakes his head, clumsily wiping his eyes with his arm. “Not cute.” Are they  _ hitting on _ him?

“The amount of people who’d like to touch your ass is roughly forty.” Teep waggles a few gloved fingers, emphasising the number signed. “T-Bone Junction’s population is about fifty. Statistically, that makes it an overwhelming majority of people who think you’re cute.”

“What the  _ fuck _ are you talking about?” Zylus gapes at Teep.

“Therefore, logically, you’re cute.” Teep concludes the statement with a shrug, folding their arms close to their body.

“I’m probably just stupid, but I don’t get your point,” Zylus mumbles. “I’m nobody special.”

“Why do you say that?”

“And I’m not ready to find someone else.”

“What happened?”

Belatedly, Zylus remembers the tea in his hands. He sips from the cup, buying himself valuable time to think of the best place to start. It’s good tea, packaged by Maliwan. Teep resorts to watching the window rather than him.

“There was another Dahl captain.” He turns the half-empty cup in his hands. “He shot me.” 

“What’s his name?” His throat seizes up. Zylus shakes his head, not wanting to say it. Teep extends an empty hand, offering their palm to him. “Write his name on my hand.”

He can do that, at least. With a single, careful finger like he’s drawing on sand, Zylus draws each letter until he takes his hand away. Teep removes their hand, tucking it into a jacket pocket. He doesn’t notice how still Teep’s gone.

“I didn’t think Ravs knew him.” The cup is burning his palms, and the pain is welcome and not. It’s tugged from his hands to rest on a coaster. He brings his hands to his face, intent on hiding the tears. “Ravs  _ lied _ to me, he was supposed to  _ tell _ me if he knew anything–” 

All those empty reassurances during mealtimes around the fires, plus the way Ravs intently listened, helping calm Zylus down from another breathing attack that leaves him exhausted, nerves frayed to the point of rendering him useless for watch, were they all an act?

Did Ravs feed  _ him _ information behind his back? Zylus’ thoughts spool like tangled fishing line, cutting into his trust of Ravs. He’s not going to interact with him until he’s sure that Ravs hasn’t compromised his location at all.

That aside, he’s disgusted with himself for losing it in front of Teep, and wouldn’t blame them if they actually are as well. Now things are going to be awkward. It’s a shame, because he does like Teep, proud to count them on his very short list of friends and acquaintances that won’t go backstabbing him when least expected.

Teep doesn’t say or do anything until Zylus calms, his breathing hampered by the constant hiccuping (and just when he thinks he’s done making a massive fool out of himself, the universe decides to shit on him one last time).

Zylus retreats to his bedroom without bidding Teep farewell. Back under the covers, he clutches his pillow close, letting it dry his face. On the downside, there’s now wet patches uncomfortably pressing against his cheeks.

Footsteps pausing by his bed cause him to tense. A weight joining him makes him shove the covers off to confront Teep.

Teep parks their boots on the bed, legs crossing over one another. Well, their boots aren’t actually touching the sheets, hanging just over the edge. They lean back, stealing Zylus’  _ other _ pillow by reclining on top of it. A series of bone-popping stretches gives him the impression of a cat making itself comfortable.

Zylus watches Teep lie back on his bed, arms sliding under their head. “Teep?”

“Yes?” Teep uses one hand to sign.

“What are you doing?” Already weary, the most Zylus can manage is a glare that’s not even a glare. 

“Power nap.” Teep’s hand pats Zylus’ back. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

Unable to find an issue with this, Zylus drops the glare, burying himself again. As his eyes grow heavier, a gentle weight lands on top of him. It’s followed by a second layer, a third and a fourth.

Zylus emerges with a gasp, throwing off all the layers. Teep’s sitting up, holding a fifth layer in their hand–it’s a blanket. It joins the rest with the flick of a wrist.

“You’re being vored by blankets,” Teep signs, extending their hand out to indicate the word that he doesn’t know the meaning of.

_ “What?”  _ Zylus shoves off the fifth blanket, staring at Teep. All the blankets bunch around his waist. Without his monocle, his right eye makes Teep a dark green and white blur against the backdrop of his room.

“You were being  _ vored _ by blankets,” Teep signs. This time, it’s signed so that the middle word stands out.

“I don’t know what that means!”

“You don’t?” Teep drops their hands, tapping it against their knee. They lift their hands again. “It’s when you’re eaten alive and then you basically cream yourself because it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Zylus is speechless. Half of their explanation just doesn’t make any  _ sense _ , and the other half is well, everything that Zylus never expected to hear attached to it, and it’s  _ wrong _ , like the fact that they just strung it together and made it exist.

It now exists in his brain as something he can never erase. He  _ hates _ it. 

“Teep!” Groaning, Zylus resigns to sinking onto the bed, ignoring how Teep seems so smug about enlightening him. 

It’s like that one time in military school where he didn’t know what half the slang for sex was, and embarrassed himself by having to ask. That  _ really _ set the tone for the rest of his time there. That includes the other time he asked that lieutenant what a ‘daddy’ was.

Teep’s silently laughing, pointing at him. “You didn’t know what ‘voring’ was!”

“Shut up!”

> Even I knew what it was, Zylus.

> Bebop, go away.

> Of ‘vorse’ I knew what it was!

“It’s okay, Zylus, there’s no shame in not knowing, I’m not judging you.” The conciliatory pat Teep gives him on the shoulder has Zylus bristling with embarrassment (plus ignoring BebopVox). They  _ are _ judging him, a tiny bit, for his ignorance. The hand patting him lands on his face. “I have vored you.”

He knocks the hand off him. “How was I supposed to know?” He mumbles. Face burning, he snatches up the heap of blankets to hide underneath them. 

Despite making fun of him, Teep can stay, it’s not like they’re going to prank him or anything now that they’ve had their fill of fun (albeit at his expense). He buries himself again, letting Teep’s presence soothe him into a fitful nap. 

By the time he wakes up, there’s no sign of Teep. The other pillow and sheets have been fixed so that both are wrinkle free. He remembers the hideous self-flagellation, cringing at his own behaviour, then is reminded of Teep’s presence. It’s hardly calming, if Teep hadn’t been around, he’d have stayed in bed for a few more miserable days until the mood passed.

A lone cup of tea isn’t a substitute for proper food. He doesn’t need to rely on the reminder from BebopVox to leave the bed this time. Teep’s left him their pile of blankets. It feels like a loan of sorts; Zylus finds himself cheering up at the thought of seeing them again, even if Teep’s merely dropping by to pick up said blankets.

But really,  _ five _ blankets? That’s a bit of an overkill.

In the kitchen, there’s a cup of tea sitting in the microwave. On his kitchen table’s a tidy heap of rations huddled in the middle. Upon closer inspection, all of them are premium grade.

‘Vore us, you know you want to. ;)’ is scribbled onto a note taped to the lid of one. Scowling, Zylus tears the note off and lobs it into the bin.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Nilesy: Ah, you’re going? Come closer? Okay. Teep. 

Teep: …

Nilesy: You can’t just randomly tip me a thousand dollars!

Teep: …

Nilesy: I mean, I do give  _ excellent _ room service–don’t be dirty, that was  _ not _ an innuendo!

Teep: …

Nilesy: You really want me to have a thousand dollars?

Teep: …

Nilesy: Last chance to change your mind.

Teep: …

Nilesy: DON’T TAPE MY HANDS TOGETHER. Fine, I’ll accept the bloody money.

Teep: …

Nilesy: What’s this as well? A gift?

Teep: …

Nilesy: What are these headphones? They have  _ cat ears _ on them!

Teep: …

Nilesy: For me? Really? You’re really giving them to me?

Teep: …

Nilesy: I–I’m so moved. Thank you. I’ll treasure them forever.

Teep: …

Nilesy: Can I hug you?

Teep: …

Nilesy: Not my best hug, but thank you. Teep, you get a five percent discount on my pool the next time you drop by.

Teep: …

Nilesy: Yeah, yeah, see you around. Safe travels.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Teep wriggles under a concrete pillar blocking off the doorway to the store. By taking the left aisle, they avoid the electricity deathtrap that used to be a giant, red circles within circles serving as the store’s sign.

Located on the third floor, the store was supposed to be the crowning jewel of a planned commerce center. When Altas moved in, Dahl fled, leaving behind projects destined to forever float in limbo.

People like Teep found these places to be a welcome refuge and a temporary shelter. They’ve been roughing it here for about two weeks, spending their spare time charting and exploring a treasure trove of when Dahl was virtually in its prime, unchallenged and unchecked by other corporate giants.

Their best find was a crate full of sniper rifle munitions that some lost, wayward unit’s stashed in the hopes of returning to it. Teep helps themself to it in their place, refilling their ammo cache. The vending machines did supply bullets, albeit at such a steep price. Teep’s never advocated for the ‘shoot like mad and hope it hits’ approach, viewing it as a stupid fucking waste.

Other scavenging rewards consist of rations nearing expiry dates (to be sold to the luckiest sucker), weapon parts in mint condition and a bunch of outdated relics that bandits would consider trophies. Teep takes the best of the lot, stowing it in their inventory. Even if they didn’t find it useful, it could make a big difference when trading and bartering.

A bookstore is the last place that Teep hasn’t been in much. The third level of the store goes on as far as the frigate that one bandit gang lives in. A town full of people could set up here.

Teep bypasses the lock on the door again, shimmying the glass doors open. A brick props it open for an easy exit.

Something’s off. Teep scans the shelves. People haven’t managed to infiltrate the mall; Teep literally had to take the long way around to reach this end, owing to a bunch of weather damage caving half the ceiling in.

Rythian’s been here. Teep touches the symbol he’d carved into a wooden shelf, marking it as a place of refuge for a fellow Vault Hunter. It’s their own private method of communication, even if they’re not by each other’s side.

They wonder what books he’d taken with him this time, and if he’s returned any. A detailed examination tells Teep that Rythian’s taken a travel guide about Pandora, a survival manual and two volumes of fantasy short stories.

Standing there in the bookstore, Teep considers if it’s worth helping themself to the books as well. Reading for the sake of reading isn’t a big interest of theirs. It all has to hold practical value, serving as information to be memorized and the physical copy destroyed.

Saberial and Panda read for personal pleasure. So did Rythian, Zylus and almost everyone Teep knew. Saberial’s voice encouraging them to pick up a book (‘read this fic, it’s good, I swear!’) motivates Teep’s hand into settling on the nearest book’s spine.

In lifting it from the shelf, Teep doesn’t  _ feel _ any different, or enlightened by the experience. There’s just the usual exhaustion of being alive far longer than they’d estimated, along with a dissatisfaction of life that the universe can’t be bothered to fix.

Knowing the facts didn’t change anything. Imbalances in brain chemistry, destructive genetics, a backstabbing mindset or deficiencies in life are contributing factors. If this caused that to trip the other, other missing, loop formed, repeat, no change, then why bother?

Because: they’re still here.

Teep leaves the bookstore with all the books (minus duplicates) stashed in their inventory, slipping into the shadows. Another one on cats is picked up for Nilesy; maybe they’ll send it to him, in exchange for letting him crash at their hotel for a week. Cats are almost as good as dinosaurs.

A blip on the radar. They adopt their usual perch by the pillars holding up the rest of the roof. Their sniper rifle’s tugged out until the person’s head is outlined in the scope.

A person clothed in red is picking their way through the ruins of the ground floor. Ground floor used to be the food court, plus basic stores. Nothing of interest (to Teep that is) exists within that area.

The person pauses at the remains of the fountain, checking to see if the water’s drinkable. Filthy water streams through their cupped fingers. Cracked, dry lips break into a sigh. They turn, the pronged shield on their arm catching the light as they flick water droplets from their hand.

Teep lowers their sniper rifle, intending to slip away without forcing a confrontation. They roll backwards, despawning their sniper rifle. The shield glances off the pillar, ricocheting back down. Concrete chunks echo across the tiled floor, raining down.

“Come down, and face me!” The person demands. The shield smashes into the pillar next to Teep. Teep draws a pistol, firing at a loosened light fixture to make it fall.

The person rolls out of the way, holding the shield over their head. They flick the sword in their hand outwards, eyes scanning the third floor. Teep’s moved elsewhere, staying low. The HUD’s radar didn’t specify height, relaying position. They know Teep’s here. Where Teep’s hiding is the question.

The shield demolishes an overgrown potted plant on Teep’s other side, a show of intimidation. Teep stays put. When the shield flies back to the person’s arm, they lean out, wrecking another light fixture. The person notes Teep’s position, the shield slicing through the glass panel next to them.

“I see you!”

No point in hiding. Teep breaks cover, alternating between firing at their attacker and at the ceiling. The attacker chooses a booth to scale, landing on the second floor. From there, they have a clear shot at Teep. Shooting the shield changes its trajectory so at they can dodge. Whatever cover’s left doesn’t stand a chance between Teep and the attacker.

By the time the attacker’s reached the third floor by using another booth as a shortcut, Teep’s completed one lap of the third floor. Direct combat’s inevitable. The two stand at opposite ends.

Teep reloads as the attacker readies their sword and shield. The two regard each other with grudging respect for having lasted this long. Travelers fought like this for no reason; safer to assume others are a threat. Besides, it’s too late, and neither currently feel like trying.

The attacker charges, shield in front. Teep knows that the shield’s bulletproof. They aim the pistol at the ceiling, the explosive rounds wrecking the last beam that’s been cracking. The ceiling and roof collapse as one, the third floor joining it.

The attacker abandons their charge, lunging off the third floor to the second floor. Their speed carries them to the first. From there, Teep has no idea about their fate. They’ve got their own to worry about.

Pistol despawned, Teep sprints across the floor that’s falling beneath them. They springboard off the balcony railing and up through the glass skylight.

Skipping the dangling part, Teep hauls themself up. Without stopping to catch their breath, they slide down the cracking, sloped glass roof. The Stingray spawning beneath them breaks their fall. They don’t pause to see if the building or the shield carrier survived the fight, heading north.

They can’t pin down why disappointment rests in their gut for a refuge being taken away. Maybe Zylus will enjoy the books they took.

\--

After that messy ordeal with Corvax (and people are forthcoming when someone’s threatening to unscrew a neck), Ravs’ scraped together enough money to buy Sanctuary Hole. He had leftover funds from selling his apartment to start construction of a town. FyreUK’s construction firm doesn’t mind working with a former bandit; Ravs generously tips the two for this.

The blueprints for his new town are approved. FyreUK doesn’t waste time in getting to work. The bar’s the first building to get built. It’ll double as Ravs’ place. He puts out word, shelling out his savings to place an advertisement in the local newspaper. He moves his things in, and rounds up his hidden stashes of booze.

Within a week of opening night, the watering hole gets enough traffic from the surrounding land for him to conclude that he can make a living off it. Bandits and folks behave themselves, and Ravs will accommodate any drink request so long as it’s within reason (that is, provided he’s got the stock for it). A reputation builds, adding to his fame.

He marks the days since he last saw his two favourite companions on a calendar (the one Rythian used to mark watches, back when he, Teep, Zylus and Ravs were traveling together). It dangles on a nail in his room, by his bed. Ravs ends his nights by using a marker to cross out the day.

Time goes by without any hint of a word from his former traveling companions.

One eventually dares to show their face as he’s working a late night shift during the final happy hour. During it, a flash of purple slips into the furthest booth. They’re the last to leave, staying in the corner booth. He can feel their hooded, electric blue eyes watching him work.

Ravs takes his sweet time in finishing up his business at the bar. Glasses are stacked in a bucket to be cleaned. He’s missing one glass. The floor’s swept, counter wiped down. Chairs and stools are pushed back into position. Leftover booze gets returned to their rightful places under the counter. Money and tips are secured in his inventory. Outstanding tabs are tallied and added to his mental chart. Rumours are filed into his black book.

When the bar’s reset to his satisfaction, Ravs finds them.

Spidery fingers toy with the edge of an empty, clean glass. It’s the one Ravs thought he misplaced. He has to blink several times to believe that the person sitting in front of him’s really here, and this isn’t some sort of visual trick caused by sneaking sips of alcohol throughout the night.

“Rythian,” Ravs says, and he says Rythian’s name like he’s just seen the bandit’s rumored, fabled red oasis, as something both terrible and a boon.

“Ravs,” Rythian says, and he says Ravs’ name like there’s a weight on his tongue, like he really shouldn’t be here, and he’s having second thoughts.

That’s when Ravs knows that Rythian’s here, he’s really  _ here _ . Before Rythian can change his mind, Ravs smiles. “You missed opening night.”

Rythian’s reaction is to tense, like he’s expecting an outburst from Ravs. Underneath the bandages binding them, his fingers go rigid against the glass. A flicker of wariness flashes in his eyes. His scarred mouth sets into a mild frown. 

The ragged, purple scarf flutters; for a split second, Rythian’s form  _ blurs _ . By the time Ravs blinks, he’s corporeal again, hand clenched against the table.

“I know.” Rythian’s doubts are closing in on him. He moves to rise, all too ready to vanish when Ravs is so close.

Ravs joins the battle, putting a hand on Rythian’s so that he can’t flee. “Why don’t you join me for a bite? I haven’t eaten yet.” It’s innocuous and open ended. This way, nobody can’t say he tried.

“I–yes.” The doubts stop advancing on Rythian (for now).

Score one for Ravs. In the kitchen, he waits to see if Rythian will follow; Rythian does.

It’s too late to cook a proper dinner. Ravs defaults to splurging on a favourite, one of Minty’s fantastic concoctions using whatever’s left of basic supplies: mug cake. He’s especially careful about making Rythian’s one, avoiding putting the powdered milk in and adjusting the recipe to cover for its absence.

Chocolate should be fine, right? He’s never quite forgotten Rythian’s preferences. In small doses, it’s fine for him.

Rythian takes a chair. Ravs brings the mug cakes over. Rythian gingerly pokes the top of his with a fork. Steam curls around the tines when they press into the delicious sponginess.

Ravs eats his own mug cake, hiding a grin at how suspicious Rythian’s being. Whatever guard Rythian has towards food drops as he soon digs in. Rations have starved Rythian of an appreciation for actual food. It’s visible in the way he finishes his mug cake before Ravs, scraping the side of the fork around the mug to catch the last, sticky crumbs.

The disappointed air upon Rythian discovering that there’s no more left has Ravs making him a second mug cake. Rythian takes his time with it, appearing to savour it. Ravs takes the three mugs and forks, leaving the lot to soak in the sink for tomorrow.

There’s so much he would like to say to Rythian; Ravs bottles it all up, not wanting to scare him away again. Tomorrow. 

“The guest rooms aren’t finished yet, but you can stay. If you don’t mind sharing, that is.” Ravs has a foot on the stairs. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Thank you.” Rythian glances down, loitering at the foot of the stairs. He confesses, “Ravs, I wouldn’t mind sharing. If your offer’s still open.” He looks up at Ravs like he expects him to say ‘no’.

“For you, it’s always been open.” Ravs extends a hand, grinning invitingly. Rythian takes his hand and lets Ravs lead him upstairs.

\--

Rythian wraps his arms around his knees, sitting in the semi-darkness. He watches the numbers of his clock switch over in his HUD. It’s silent in the room, save for his and Ravs’ breathing, ever so slightly out of sync but slowed, steady like the beat of his heart.

This was a bad idea; he feels horrible, wanting to pick up his knife and tenderly run the edge along his stomach, splitting apart his insides to see how much the rot’s grown.

He shouldn’t have taken advantage of Ravs’ offer during one weak moment of crushing loneliness. The fault’s solely his because Ravs had honestly  _ tried _ , and by now, Rythian should be feeling better about all this, about himself.

Accepting the offer shouldn’t be making him feel  _ worse _ . He’d kept saying yes, Ravs had said so too, so Rythian doesn’t know what’s the problem. Maybe he does, after a few minutes of rewinding the last few hours in the privacy of his own head.

He’d never wanted to give Ravs any false hopes or expectations.

Rythian glaces at Ravs’ sleeping form sprawled out on the bed next to him. In the past, he would have traded his only scarf to see that view. Now he just wants to wipe it from his mind; this is another thing he clearly doesn’t deserve.

He pushes the arm wrapped around his middle off. Ravs doesn’t stir, even as Rythian fixes the enormous fur blankets serving as sheets (while Ravs doesn’t have any modesty to speak of, it’s cold in the room).

It takes him twenty minutes to find what’s his and get dressed. He didn’t have to remove the trinket, so he had no fear about losing it. It wouldn’t have mattered if he did, given its unusual properties. 

Half an hour later, he’s back on the road. In Sanctuary Hole, Ravs keeps dreaming.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Ravs: My! A new face. What can I get you?

Zoeya: Do you have anything that isn’t as strong?

Ravs: I certainly do! Here’s a list. Do let me know when you want a drink.

Zoeya: Can I please get an emerald six shooter?

Ravs: One emerald six shooter, coming right up!

Zoeya: It looks amazing!

Ravs: Haha, that’s the first time’s anybody ever complimented me on that drink!

Zoeya: It’s very nice and sweet.

Ravs: You don’t look like a bandit, but I’m not one to judge by appearances.

Zoeya: I’m not a local! And I’m not a bandit either.

Ravs: Let me guess...an offworlder?

Zoeya: Bingo!

Ravs: What world, if you’d mind my curiosity?

Zoeya: Phusis, but moved to one of the Edens when I was young.

Ravs: What brings a coreworlder to Pandora?

Zoeya: I’m a researcher! I want to check out the wildlife! Don’t laugh! I’m serious!

Ravs: Sorry, but that’s a hell of a project you’re on!

Zoeya: If I do this, then I’ll be one of the first people to succeed!

Ravs: I’ve had loads of people try exactly the same thing. It ain’t easy. I usually don’t hear back from them.

Zoeya: Which is why I’m here in this bar to try to find a new assistant! My last one left about a month ago.

Ravs: What happened to your last assistant?

Zoeya: He, uh...quit. Got tired of being bitten, I suppose.

Ravs: He didn’t die, did he?

Zoeya: Rythian would rather drink milk than die from a few skag bites!

Ravs: ...You said his name was ‘Rythian’, right?

Zoeya: You know him?

Ravs: You could say that.

Zoeya: Dang. I was hoping you could help me get in touch with him.

Ravs: Why?

Zoeya: ...I want to know if he’s okay.

Ravs: Why don’t you stay after the bar closes and we’ll talk some more?

Zoeya: Sure, I got nowhere else to go. My last laboratory sunk during the floods, so!

Ravs: I know a place nobody’s using…

Zoeya: Can I put up this advertisement in your bar too?

Ravs: Actually, I know a person who might be perfect.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

It’s almost dawn when Ravs wakes. He automatically pats the space next to him, not registering how empty it is until he opens his eyes. Yesterday occupies a special place in his memory, as clear as untainted moonshine.

“Morning, Rythian–Rythian?” He sits up, rolling onto his side. If he’s hoping to see Rythian, he’s disappointed.

His kilt’s been moved to hang at the foot of the bed, as with his vest and boots. Someone is seated on a chair opposite him, both boots propped up on his chest of drawers.

Teep’s stirring a fork in a mug. “Morning,” They sign, letting go of the fork to do so. At this point, he’s not batting an eyelid at Teep’s sporadic appearances and abrupt disappearances. There’s no pattern to their wanderings, coming and going but never entering Sanctuary Hole. He’s not sure if he should be annoyed or worried that today’s different.

“Where’s Rythian?” Ravs pushes aside the fur blankets. 

He didn’t have them on his bed back in his old place, because  _ somebody _ hated them (and argued that ‘sleeping underneath them’s like having three of you on top’, a compliment that Ravs is proud of).

“Not here, clearly.” The snark behind that response doesn’t offend him.

Ravs moves to the edge of the bed; Teep’s seen him naked before so they won’t react. He stares at Teep, jolted wide awake by the realisation that it’s been an incredibly long time since he last saw Teep in person. They haven’t changed, save for their jacket.

He’s too hurt by Rythian’s second disappearance to do anything about it. How dare he hope that it’d be different, this time around. Ravs uses the palm of his hand to wipe his eyes.

Teep despawns the fork and mug, boots thumping on the floorboards when they shift on the chair. “He really was here, though.”

“How do you know?” Ravs tries not to sound so accusing. The last time he did that with Teep, Teep had left him, with excellent reason.

Huh, Teep’s hood is down again. They’re sitting in a dark corner of the room where the roof slopes down; if Teep’s gotten any taller, their head will hit the ceiling. 

“From the heartbroken look that’s currently on your face.” Teep claps, once. ”Congratulations, by the way.”

“This isn’t something to congratulate me about.” Ravs rests an elbow on his knee, propping his face on his hand. “I thought he’d get better, after all that time he spent alone.”

“You don’t get better, you get worse, and you do stupid things to try to fool yourself that it’s helping.” Teep crosses their arms over their chest.

> You’ve done what you can. Let him figure out the rest.

Half of Ravs wants to argue with Teep. The other half wants to admit that Teep is right. Instead, Ravs tries not to feel like a failure of a friend, and has a hunch that Teep is speaking from prior experience.

“Where’d you go?” He asks, switching topics. “Did you miss me?” The smile directed at Teep doesn’t take much effort; he’s genuinely glad that they’re alive (and Rythian, too).

“Only when you had clothes on,” Teep signs. Ravs laughs, because it’s hardly what he’d expected in an answer but it’s Teep’s kind of answer.

\--

– / / DiNoScope is no longer idle. / / –

DiNoScope: do it

TForce: I was beginning to think you were never gonna ask me.

TForce: Done. Trail’s live.

TForce: That’s the last favor I owe you! Anything else?

DiNoScope: thatll do so enjoy your newfound freedom

– / / DiNoScope is now offline. / / –

TForce: Freedom’s an illusion when you’re involved.

\--

“Mail for Arsenal!” Trell hands over an envelope, tossing a piece of crispy skag skin at Boner. Arsenal grabs the envelope before Boner can devour it. “Here you go, a daily treat for not attacking me!”

Switching to the tastier target, Boner gobbles the bit of skin up. Arsenal watches Boner chase the Stingray for a few metres before the outdated Stingray builds enough speed, outrunning the ambitious nips to one of the outer fans. Trell laughs, zooming through the clearing towards the highway. Grateful bandits chorus goodbyes at him, checking their deliveries.

Arsenal whistles, calling Boner back to his side. The single piece of paper tucked into the envelope’s unfolded. 

As he reads, he sidesteps a stray sports ball (covered in suspicious red stains) that gets collected by Cant to be hustled back into the ongoing game, stomps on Dornier’s boot for trying to trip him, and warns a sentry not to drink on duty (next time, he’s putting them in the brig to sober up).

By the time he’s back in his room, he’s tucking the bit of paper into one jacket pocket. It’s an unusual request, handwritten and supposed to be destroyed once he’s finished. Arsenal adores ‘unusual’. It makes a change from making weapons compensate for their owners. The inventory list of what’s stored in the frigate’s digistruct system has what he needs.

Limping to the cargo bays to briefly hijack the digistruct system and back takes him about thirty minutes, due to a conversation with Arado about how to hotwire a technical engine that’s on the brink of sparking a fire. 

While that’s happening, Boner chases a couple of midget bandits, pinning one down by the scruff of the neck. Boner proudly presents the mock kill to Arsenal. Arsenal rewards Boner with lots of pats to the head. All the obedience training’s paying off. He’s never been prouder.

“Good boy, now let the poor sucker go!”

The bandit formerly trapped underneath Boner scrambles to the safety of their buddies roaring with laughter. Giving the small bandits a brief look of longing, Boner trots back to Arsenal’s side, stubby tail wagging.

Arado knows shit about mechanics, expressing worries about the summer season making ‘everything overheat’. Arsenal reminds his motley crew to keep an extra eye regarding progressing repairs on the technicals belonging to Fieseler’s unit. 

There’s a wide array of illegal upgrades that clash with repairs, largely involving using secret fuel lines to cheat during drag races. Fuel lines don’t mix with welders. The last thing he needs to is to start a hunt for the fuckers responsible for wounding several of his own bandits in a costly explosion.

Next is the black paint. Back in the privacy of his room, Arsenal spends a few minutes searching for what he needs. He spots it hiding at the back of his worktable, amongst his other paints (all new stock, thanks to Elora the courier). The tube of black paint’s retrieved.

He settles on a crate, Boner curled up next to him. A squeaky toy has a fit in Boner’s jaws. Arsenal stole it back from Daltos after it was confiscated. As for the why, Boner wouldn’t stop leaving it in front of Daltos’ room and scaring him whenever he trod on it.

The dogtag’s finished within the hour. Once it’s dry, Arsenal carefully slips it between two flaps of scrap cardboard, sealing it up with duct tape. It’s slotted into an envelope and marked for delivery for when Trell stops by tomorrow.

Arsenal hopes that it’s to Teep’s liking.

\--

– / / GodOfArrows is no longer idle. / / –

GodOfArrows: flax found a clue

– / / FiZone is no longer idle. / / –

FiZone: what?

GodOfArrows: its a map they’ve been making

FiZone: of what

GodOfArrows: a trail

FiZone: lemme see

GodOfArrows: look

GodOfArrows: the final stop is a planet on the fringes called pandora

FiZone: this is about teep, isnt it

GodOfArrows: who else could it be

FiZone: look, even if mom assigned you the case, i don’t think it’s worth chasing after

GodOfArrows: she didnt assign it

FiZone: what

GodOfArrows: i asked her to give it to me

FiZone: panda, it’s been years

GodOfArrows: but after all this time i finally have a clue

FiZone: but why would flax wait so long to give it to you

GodOfArrows: dont get mad but flax’s been digging for stuff because i paid them to

FiZone: it could be a trap

GodOfArrows: even if its a trap

GodOfArrows: im going

FiZone: youre not going alone this time

GodOfArrows: you sure

FiZone: im sure

GodOfArrows: you got your ship

FiZone: yeah

GodOfArrows: ill meet you on elpis

FiZone: thats the moon right

GodOfArrows: yep and i should be an hour late because of how fucking far i am from pandora and my engines are being tuned up

FiZone: ill go and sightsee then :p

GodOfArrows: <3

FiZone: <3

\--

Helios grants her immediate clearance to briefly dock. Saberial uses her mercenary qualifications to obtain free fuel. It’ll be about half an hour as fuel’s moved up from storage by the Loaders. She explores the space station, wanting to stretch her legs after all that time cooped up in the cockpit.

In the public levels, all the suits steer clear of her. Her preceding reputation lets her jump to the front of the queue (even if she insists on waiting like everybody else). Out of curiosity, she buys a few long lasting fast food packs from Hyperion’s fast food chain. The mercenary’s discount saves her about ten dollars. 

Despite its location being a fair distance from Hyperion’s closest base, Helios is clean and populated, not that different from any other space stations that she’s visited. An overabundance of bright yellow makes the space feel larger than it should. She explores the wares that the shops offer, declining to buy any of the goods.

Done with refuelling, Saberial thanks the engineers and takes her ship to Elpis. She broadcasts a landing request to Concordia’s airfield, wanting permission to dock her ship ‘McGoats’.

Wondering why it’s taking so long, she tries again; her message is getting through. Hanging in the airspace that’s neutral territory, she twists in her pilot’s seat. An idle check of her messages promptly has her suffering a mild heart attack.

Flax is attempting to get her attention, bombarding her screen with ‘URGENT, PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE, ECHO ASAP!’.

Saberial keys in the attached ECHO code, ready to pull McGoats back if the defensive cannons surrounding Concordia turn on her.

Pyrionflax answers half a second later, their bald head gleaming with sweat. “FiZone!” Without the modulator, Pyrionflax’s voice is higher than she’d thought, with a bit of a natural whine to it.

“Flax!” Saberial greets, pleasantly surprised to see them (or him). Her voice hardens. “What’s wrong? Is this a trap?”

“Nothing’s wrong! I wouldn’t be here if it was a fucking trap!” Pyrionflax’s room is filled with an assortment of towering junk piles, the light from the grouped monitors making their head light up in blue. “My arachnid senses aren’t tingling!” The dramatic joke doesn’t lessen her mood.

“Your last hint cost John their kneecap, a leg, a bit of spine and their right wrist,” Saberial coolly reminds, ignoring the joke. She’s since forgiven Pyrionflax for their role in the incident (once they’d reappeared).

Upon hearing that, Pyrionflax blanches. It makes them look sickly. The reaction appears genuine. “Yes, that was kind of my fault, wasn’t it?” They acknowledge. They brighten, trying to lighten the mood. The effect doesn’t spread to Saberial. “Which I made up for by providing the coordinates for John to ambush Teep.”

“Panda escaped from the hospital just to follow up on it.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration because Panda had been cleared to leave later in the day. They just hadn’t waited for the doctor to grant permission.

Pyrionflax’s mouth opens. It closes at the coldness of her tone. “FiZone.” They swallow, finally slapping their chair’s armrest. “I had no fucking idea–John told me that they got discharged!” It’s rather nice to see that someone else is also bothered about being lied to by Panda.

“Well, John lied,” Saberial crisply says, folding her arms over her chest; the gesture reminds her of Teep. She unfolds her arms, resting them against her chair instead.

“How’s John doing? And how’re  _ you _ doing?” Pyrionflax fidgets, both eyes whirring briefly to gaze at something offscreen.

“Oh, I’m fine.” Saberial leans forward, smiling thinly. “Because of those stunts, John’s now one of the best bounty hunters around, but only because they’re obsessed with nobody else getting away from them.”

“You’re not gonna punch me or anything once you get down here, are you?” Pyrionflax’s worried expression has Saberial wanting to say ‘yes, I will’ but refrains, stopped by her conscience. 

Having seen her caber toss and spar at the Dionysus convention provides him enough of an incentive to know that being punched by Saberial is going to result in serious damage.

“No more dangerous hints for John, but if you have to, you tell  _ me _ everything too, and they can’t hear about it.” Saberial drops the bargain into the conversation. Playing dirty isn't her style but she doesn’t mind it when the cleaner approach’s failed.

Pyrionflax scratches their neck. “John never said anything about telling anybody else what we know,” They concede, with a shrug. “Sure, if anything comes up, I’ll pass it onto you.”

“Thank you. Let’s try to protect, rather than kill, John, this time.”

“That wasn’t exactly my fault–”

“But it might as well might be,” Saberial softly says. She can’t blame Panda, can’t blame Teep, she could blame  _ herself _ but that would be hard, so she ends up blaming Pyrionflax instead, because that’s easier.

“Sooner or later, it would have happened. I just made sure it happened in a place where someone could at least reach–”

“I know.” They don’t have to tell her twice.

“I’m sorry.” Pyrionflax rubs at their bald head. “I just...wanted to help.”

“We all did.” Saberial lowers her head. “It wasn’t your fault. None of us can predict what happened next.” Her conscience is pestering for her to admit her own flawed thinking. “Sorry if I made you feel like it was.”

“Hey, it’s all good. Now that that’s out of the way?” Their mouth twists into a toothy grin. “I just want to personally welcome you to Concordia, my own little refuge from the madness that’s the inner worlds.”

Alright, she laughs. Nobody’s met Pyrionflax in person since they fled to who knows where. While Pyrionflax’s presence online has never changed, the people who Saberial’s asked don’t know where they’ve retreated to. Panda didn’t have a clue, and neither did Vertiigo or InTheLittleWood. Asking ‘Green’ is impossible; ‘Green’ vanished earlier than Pyrionflax did.

“It’s not your city!” A slightly higher-pitched voice indignantly cuts in. Pyrionflax turns their head to acknowledge a second person sitting next to them. “It’s–”

“Bluari, don’t you fucking ruin my attempt to make a great first impression,” Pyrionflax retorts. “Anyway, FiZone–”

“Are you one of Pyrionflax’s merc buddies?” The dark-skinned customs officer called ‘Bluari’ glares at Pyrionflax.

“I’m Saberial,” She carefully introduces. “I can show you my credentials if you want.”

At this, Bluari snaps their mouth shut. “The  _ Saberial _ ?”

“That’s right.” Saberial grins and waves. Pyrionflax rolls their eyes, shouting as Bluari shoves their chair out of the way to press a bunch of buttons on the console.

“Come on down, docking clearance is all yours! The sheriff’ll meet you–” Bluari’s excited babble’s cut off by Pyrionflax’s splutter of rage.

“That’s my job, you little twit!” Pyrionflax’s shouting is muted by Saberial as she returns to her ship’s controls. She lands on one of the empty airfields extending out from the central lift. 

Concordia’s like one of those little picturesque settlements hiding behind a highway. Saberial tugs on a warmer jackets, slipping on an Oz kit. Spending her fair share of time in zero gravity means that she makes it to the lift with no problem. Mom would be proud of her (though she’d have something to say about the way Saberial’s slack about watching her surroundings for danger).

Soon enough, she’s standing in the plaza that makes up the central area of Concordia. Saberial stands by the headless, graffitied statue for a few minutes, taking in the scene. Pyrionflax said that someone would meet her. Someone joins her at the balcony.

“Nice view, right? If you don’t mind the constant moonshot bombardments from Helios,” drawls a low voice that Saberial hasn’t heard in  _ years _ . “But I think the view’s loads better from where I’m standing.”

“ _ Minty _ ?” Saberial whirls around to spot a sheriff next to her.

It is, indeed, MintyMinute. Minty’s dressed in a long duster coat, spurred boots, a waistcoat and a hat to match the sheriff getup. A shiny badge’s pinned to her waistcoat. What really draws Saberial’s attention is the metal arm missing all its skin covering, resting on one hip, above a holstered pistol.

“Your _ arm!”  _ Saberial blurts. She immediately wants to throw herself off the balcony because that’s not the kind of thing people said to their exes, especially not a grinning one.

She looks exactly the same as the evening she told Saberial that she’d see her later. Minty’s career with Dahl forced her to move through the galaxies wherever they needed an administrative officer. Minty had never gotten back to her after the ninth date.

Not even a second passes when Saberial’s hit with a sledgehammer, in the head, in the heart, and to the gut. She can’t stop the hot rush of blood to her face either, when noticing the minute scars on Minty’s own face, clearly new additions.

Minty’s always admired Saberial’s own myriad collection of scars. Another blast from the past ends up playing through Saberial’s mind; Minty’s hand tracing the pleasing curve of collarbone, not minding that Saberial’s broken it twice trying to follow Teep’s self-taught parkour moves. How would she feel about the giant one across Saberial’s chest?

“Saberial, long time no see.” Minty arches both eyebrows. Her voice yanks Saberial back into reality from where it’d drifted off into memory land.

“Minty, it’s lovely to see you too.” Saberial hopes that she doesn’t look like she’s been walking through an asteroid field, cursing that she didn’t shower or freshen up before arriving (never mind how Minty’s never cared about appearances).

“Let’s talk in my office.” Minty’s bluntness is appreciated. Saberial joins her in the lift. During that time, Saberial frantically tries to think of a casual topic. Her mind keeps circling back to ‘why did you leave me, where did you go, and what  _ happened _ to you?’.

Minty exits the lift, leading her to a rather plain looking office. A white object bobs in the fishtank separating the hallway and the space beyond it. Saberial thinks it must be a floating decoration, shaking off the feeling that it’s watching her with lifeless, black eyes. Maybe it’s one of Minty’s weird tourist knick-knacks.

“Sit,” Minty invites, closing the door. Saberial accepts the chair that’s kicked over. Minty removes her hat, dropping it onto the hat stand behind her, as with her coat. “You want anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Saberial’s eyes try not to linger on the dark green, hooded jacket hanging off the hatstand.

“Saberial, I know what you’re thinking,” She says, as she sits down. “And I owe you a real explanation, not a sugarcoated version of me trying to excuse my own fucking actions.”

“Minty–” Saberial wants her to slow down. Minty can’t be deterred, plowing on.

“Look, what I did was shit.” Minty sighs. “I cut you off, after a few weeks of dating. I practically disappeared.” She leans on the desk. “How did you feel?”

Saberial spends a few seconds collecting her own thoughts. It’s hard to remember what she’d felt, at the time. 

Mostly, she felt discarded and hardly angry, having grown far too used to people dropping the ball when she’d thrown them it. Expecting them to throw it back to her’s always a rare surprise. Moving on was far easier with Panda and Teep’s combined help to lift her out of her attempted moping. Work also helped.

“To be honest, I don’t remember much about how I felt when you didn’t answer my calls or messages,” Saberial truthfully admits. “That was such a long time ago. You don’t owe me anything.”

On the desk, Minty’s hand curls into a fist. “You don’t feel angry?”

“No!” Saberial shakes her head.

“But you gotta feel something!” Minty blows out air, her metal hand feeling along her forehead. “Saberial, don’t pull the ‘I really don’t hate you’ card on me.”

“Sorry, that’s the only one I can play.” Saberial manages a nervous grin. Minty’s not here to pick a fight, wanting to make amends instead.

“ _ You _ .” Minty’s grumble ends with a sigh. “Here I am trying to apologise for randomly swanning off into space, and you’ve already gone and forgiven me. Shit, you got me stuck.”

“You probably had a really good reason. It happens a lot, with mercs.”

“Can I smoke in front of you?”

“Sure, I’m not allergic or anything.” Saberial watches as Minty digistructs a pack of smokes and a lighter. She lights up, staring past the window. The smoke stays in her metal hand.

“I killed a person because they swapped  _ my _ transfer with whoever it was they were fucking. I wasn’t just mad, I was  _ pissed _ .” Minty taps her cigarette against the empty ashtray on her desk. “Dahl was onto me. I had to leave without contacting you, or else they’d have hauled you in too for questioning. Frankly, ditching Dahl was one of the best decisions of my life. Ditching you was one of the worst.”

“You left to protect me.” Saberial’s quiet awe in her voice makes Minty chuckle.

“I spent all this time wondering if I should have left you a message, or tried to get one to you.” Minty sighs. “I regret not trying.” A wave of her hand exposes a transparent screen on the window behind her. There’s a tab showing off multiple ECHOnet articles, videos and pictures of Saberial’s rising career. “Didn’t stop me from wanting to know how you were doing in the public sphere, though.”

“It’s going to sound really shallow, but thank you for telling me. And for thinking of me.” Saberial leans across the table, taking Minty’s other hand. It feels warm. “Minty, please don’t beat yourself up for the past.”

“You know, that’s the best advice anyone’s ever told me that doesn’t make me want to empty a bullet into their brain.” Minty takes her hand, squeezing it. “You were always full of wise words. I could have used someone like you after I got here.” Grinning, she adds, “I should tell you about how I met my lieutenant next time.”

“I like to think I have that charming effect on people.” Saberial winks at her.

“Listen, if I wasn’t trying to quit drinking so much, I’d invite you downstairs to my bar for a free drink.” Minty grins. “So, since you’re so famous and rich, can I get a ‘personalised’ autograph?”

Saberial splutters, her face doing the opposite of staying calm. “I don’t do personalised autographs!”

“Somebody must have asked you to sign their boobs, because if they didn’t, they wasted a fucking opportunity.” Minty pauses, her grin turning flirtatious. “Can I be the first?”

“No!” Saberial’s let go of her hand to hide her face. “Panda’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

“They don’t need to know,” Minty points out.

“Not thinking about it!”

“It’s okay to think about my boobs. Sometimes I too, think of them. Sometimes I grab them.”

Saberial inhales through her nose so that she doesn’t burst out laughing. “Minty.”

“Hello,” Minty flatly says, having used the pause to smoke.

“I’ll sign a piece of paper.” Saberial mentally congratulates herself for sounding firm and not a blushing or stuttering mess. “I won’t sign your boobs.”

“Fair enough.” Minty hands her a piece of paper and a marker. “Then, do you object to me getting your autograph tattooed onto my boobs?”

“Minty!” That does it, Saberial’s honestly cracking up. The marker gets capped. “Yes, I do object! I’m not signing if you do that!”

“Well, dang, there goes that plan,” Minty deadpans.

“You don’t want my hideous handwriting on your body anyway.” Minty’s built less solidly than she is, but it’s hard to say if that’s unchanged, not unless Minty takes off her–Saberial desperately thinks of Panda’s inability to clean their room.

“You sure?” Minty’s tone is the kind that should be banned in one on one meetings. “Now, how can I help you? You can’t have just traveled all the way out here to see me.”

“Well, I came here to find someone.” Saberial loses the laughter. She signs the paper, leaving the marker on the desk. “Panda too.”

“Your sibling?” Minty swings a screen over. On it is a picture of Panda getting into a fistfight with a mining corporation’s lead executive. Saberial nods. “Pyrionflax is meeting them at the airfield.”

“That’s fine. I’d rather talk to you instead.” Saberial watches Minty’s grin return. “I mean–”

“It’s alright, I got all the time in the universe. Nobody can tell me how to spend it.” Minty winks. She closes the screen. “Who’re you looking for?”

“Someone named ‘Teep’. Catch is, I got to find them first before my sibling does. It’s complicated, and you can’t tell Panda, because Panda’ll get really upset.” Can she trust Minty with the entire story? She can. Minty’s been honest with her so far. It’d be shitty of Saberial not to return that.

Minty nods, leaning back in her chair. “Why don’t I ECHO Bluari to get us some non-alcoholic drinks, and you can tell me more?”

Saberial smiles, pointing to the hatstand. “And you can also tell me where you got that jacket from.”

\--

Panda’s leaving Helios when a smaller ship passes underneath. It’s Dahl made, a faded silver and built for speed and maneuverability. Out of habit, Panda mentally overlays what its original coat of paint must have been. They sit up, their own ship following. The smaller ship pays no attention to Panda’s approach, descending onto Elpis’ surface.

The last time Panda saw that ship, they’d been shooting at it.

Saberial’s last message leads Panda to ‘Concordia’, which is exactly where the other ship’s going. Panda requests for clearance to land; the ship in question is already landing, letting the landing treads connect. The second Panda’s cleared, Panda swings their ship down to land next to it, docking in record time.

With some difficulty (like finding an Oz kit under their cot and tugging it on), they sprint over to the other ship to intercept whoever’s inside it. The back hatch opens to reveal a uniformed person. The person blinks at Panda. Panda stares back.

“Yes?” The person wearing the monocle affixes an Oz kit to their shoulder. They step down as Panda suppresses a disappointed sigh. It’s not Teep. Teep would have shot back on sight.

“Where’d you get that ship?” Panda straightens up. It’s tempting to use their cybernetic eye to run an infrared scran on the inside of the other ship but Panda already knows that they won’t find anything.

“On Pandora.” The person narrows their eyes. “I still have the receipt, and it was all perfectly legal.”

“Don’t care if you won it in a gambling game, but did you ever meet the original owner?” Panda inquires, relying on the polite nature of their tone to calm the other person.

“Are you a bounty hunter?” The person questions.

“Yeah, and this is who I’m looking for.” Panda tugs out a wanted poster, handing it to them. The person examines it for a minute or so, cybernetic eye scanning over the amount listed at the bottom. Panda takes it back when they return it.

“No. I bought the ship through a salesperson in T-Bone Junction. I actually never met this ‘Teep’ person.”

Panda’s face falls. “Oh. Well, thanks.” Helios’ records didn’t have anything either. Teep had probably used their ship to go right to Pandora. If Panda had a damaged ship, that’s exactly what they’d do if they were already on the run.

“You’re welcome.” The person nods at the lift. “Are you headed up to Concordia too?”

“Yeah. I’m meeting my sister there.”

“We can take the lift together.”

The person heads off once the lift arrives, though they’d warmed up when noticing Panda’s ship and initiated a conversation about the latest changes in ship production. Panda had sent them a bunch of magazines on the subject, making them one happier pilot. 

Saberial’s waiting at the top along with Pyrionflax. Pyrionflax highfives Panda; the three fistbump one another.

“You meet Zylus already?” Pyrionflax watches a beaming Zylus enters the lift to Minty’s office. “He’s alright, he gets stuff up to Elpis and takes stuff back.”

“Yeah, I just wanted ask a couple of questions about that ship of his.”

“Did he answer them?” Pyrionflax inquires. “I bet he was very tight-lipped on where he got his ship from! I couldn’t find a record or anything because you’d have to be desperate or mad to sell a ship like that.”

“He wasn’t very helpful,” Panda notes, shrugging. “Probably thought I was going to buy it off him or something, but Johnson’s the better ship.” They’re ready to argue if it means faithfully standing up for Johnson.

“So, FiZone, how’d your meeting with Minty go?” Pyrionflax drops the argument, unlocking the door to their apartment.

“Oh, she was  _ very _ helpful. She might have some info where Teep went.”

“Wait, what?” Panda stares at Saberial, who’s grinning innocently. “Minty’s here?” Panda’s met Minty a couple of times, largely whenever Minty’s crashing at Saberial’s place. They like her well enough. They hadn’t, after Minty had stood Saberial up.

“Why’s the sheriff helping you so easily?” Panda’s eye narrows at her.

“You’re just salty Minty’s more forthcoming than Zylus is,” Saberial teases.

“I’m not salty!”

“You just don’t have a high enough charisma score, lil sib.” Saberial is indeed, smug about this. Panda pouts. “Come on, we got a meeting with the guy who owns that mining rig over there next.”

At their monitors, Pyrionflax’s head turns so fast that their neck audibly cricks. “You’re going in there? Can I pretty please sneak a hidden camera onto you? I’ve been getting weird ECHOnet traffic from that mining rig and I want to know who’s behind it.”

Saberial steps back so Panda ‘volunteers’ for the role, much to Pyrionflax’s glee.

\--

To Ravs’ relief, Teep sticks around this time. They don’t bring up the Digistruct Peak incident, and Ravs is on his best behaviour, trying to make feel Teep as welcome as possible. The day that one of the guest rooms is complete, Ravs tries to convince Teep to move into it.

Teep refuses. “I don’t need your guest room.”

“You need to sleep  _ somewhere _ .” Ravs takes away their breakfast plate; Teep went up to the roof to eat and brought the plate back downstairs.

“I do, just not  _ in _ Sanctuary Hole,” Teep signs.

“Where do you actually sleep?” A shrug. Ravs keeps staring at them. Teep stares back. “Are you bored?” Another shrug. “Do you want to help out someone–stop shrugging!” It’s a nod this time.

Trying not to grit his teeth, Ravs finds Zoeya’s coffee-stained flyer to slide it across the bar counter. Teep accepts whatever odd jobs Ravs passes their way. Even when operating solo, Teep’s astoundingly effective at clearing bandits that disagreed with his ‘no picking on the civvies’ rule in the Crooked Caber, or whatever else they’re paid to do.

Teep reads the flyer once. They slip it into one of their jacket pockets. “Okay.” Ravs breathes out a private sigh of relief that they don’t turn down this one, especially after he’d given Zoeya his word that he’d send Teep.

“You’ll find her at these coordinates.”

\--

The swamp is fucking horrid. Teep amps up their shield’s ‘environmental protection’ to the highest it’ll go. It’ll cost them another shield battery in about ninety hours, but for now, it’s worth every second. It’s difficult to be stealthy in a swamp when the black, viscous mud grips at Teep’s boots, popping whenever they take a step.

It’s nighttime, clouds of bioluminescent spores drifting up towards the canopy. Teep steers clear of all and any migrating spore clouds, switching to higher ground. The trees hold their weight. 

Radar flashing with occasional activity, Teep walks from branch to branch, ducking and occasionally leaping over a gap. Boroks, scaylions, swamp skags, lost bullymongs and whatever else is awake restlessly shuffle in the dark, scavenging (or following). They don’t notice Teep slipping past.

An old Dahl fort that’s part of a cliff emerges where the tree line ends. Teep rests at the top of the highest tree, back pressed against the moss stained trunk. A light pops on in one of the doubled-layered, reinforced windows on the ground floor.

Unable to put it off any further, Teep slides down a branch, hopping off; the stray branch whips into a bullymong’s face, sending it back into the depths of the swamp. Leaves flutter as the branch springs back into place.

Teep arrives at the front door, pressing the buzzer. The door’s heaved open by a shorter figure with a messy crop of brown-red hair. A flashlight’s clenched between teeth.

“Quick, in!” They almost usher Teep in by grabbing their hand. Teep dodges it, stepping inside. The door clanks shut, grinding into its locked state. 

Panting, the figure beams a second later, spitting the flashlight into one hand. The top of their head barely meets Teep’s shoulder. Teep notes the mushroom printed pj bottoms and the tank top. The flyer’s extracted and presented.

The figure claps their hands to their mouth, crushing the flyer. Light from the flashlight blazes across the ceiling. “You’re my new assistant! I was expecting you to arrive to arrive before the sun went down!”

Teep is going to blame that on Ravs’ shitty coordinates landing them on the other side of the swamp, and the lack of a Fast Travel Station near the Dahl fort. They sign, “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine! I was up anyway, got a bunch of nightlife cameras to pick through,” The figure rambles. “Come this way, I can’t have you standing around after all that walking!”

The kitchen is as messy as the figure’s hair. Files and folders take up every inch that’s a horizontal surface. Teep despawns their sniper rifle, not wanting to knock anything over. Already, they’re mentally organising the stacks–Teep watches the figure drop the flashlight, shoving aside mountains to find their kettle. They’re not alarmed that this person leaves flammable items by a stovetop.

“I’m a professor from…” They ramble, giving a brief spiel for the reason for why they’re here on Pandora. “But you can call me Zoeya! I use she and her as pronouns, but you probably knew that from looking at my ECHO device. You can share some of my tea, it’s good stuff, it really keeps you awake! It’s better than coffee which is bad for you, but Ravs swears by it so I won’t argue just in case you happen to like coffee.”

She slides a metal cup (on top of a paper plate) in front of Teep. The cup has a bag of tea bubbling at the bottom of it. Just to be polite, Teep sets it aside under the pretense of letting it cool. Her own cup of tea sits on a camera lid.

“So, what’s your name and pronouns? And tell me a little about yourself!” Zoeya despawns a bunch of slides piled into a carry case to steal the chair, grinning at Teep. When Teep’s about to sign, Zoeya dives into her inventory, tugging out a sheet of paper. “Oh! Or, you can answer this form!” A pen’s stolen from her ear.

Teep glances down at the form and begins to write.

  * NAME (what you’d like to be called, even just a nickname will do! – Zoeya): teep
  * AGE (i make cake on your birthday! – Zoeya): twenty-eight (i think so dont quote me on that)
  * OCCUPATION (current or past! – Zoeya): stabby (not to be confused with shabby)
  * GENDER (we’re a discrimination free workplace! – Zoeya): i dont even know but if you find it let me know
  * SEX (OPTIONAL!!! you don’t need to answer if you don’t want to! – Zoeya): no thanks
  * PRONOUNS (f***boi is not a pronoun! – Zoeya): they/them but if you fuck up i wont kill you in your sleep
  * EDUCATION (i can teach you how to read and write if you can’t! – Zoeya): im practically a certified genius when standing next to ravs
  * ABILITIES (what are you super good at! – Zoeya): i can shoot real good and im good at math (i can do long division in my head)
  * REFERENCES (just so I know you’re not a telemarketer in disguise! – Zoeya): ravs (hes apparently the only one i need)



Zoeya tucks the pen and form into her inventory without looking it. Teep lets it slide; she must really need an assistant. Eyes sparkling, she leans forward. “So, let me ask you a couple of basic questions. Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“Hopefully  _ not _ dead,” Teep signs.

She actually laughs. Her laugh’s like warm, melted syrup, bubbly and a joy to listen to. Teep can think of at least one person who’d like her just for her laugh alone. “You have a sense of humour! I like that, that’s important for this job. More importantly, what’s your pain tolerance like?”

“Well, I don’t scream when my arm gets broken.”

“Oh wow! I wish I had an incredible pain tolerance like that,” Zoeya says, her grin not moving. “A bite’s about the most pain I can handle before I gotta make some noise. You want long term or short term?”

“I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“Great! I’m here on Pandora for a while, or at least, up until I decide that I have all the info I need, and then I’m out of here.” Zoeya indicates her surroundings with a flapping hand. “As you can see, it’s been  _ nuts _ since my last assistant disappeared. You think you can handle it? It involves animals and um, some dissections, which is okay if you’re squeamish around blood, since I’ll be mostly doing those, but some help would be really nice...”

Teep nods when she’s done listing the finer details. “I’m fine with whatever.”

“It’s all paid work, of course,” Zoeya quickly says. “All in cash, as my last assistant told me.”

“Pay me whatever you want.”

“How’s…” Zoeya does some math on the back of the form Teep had written on. She peers at them, waiting for them to agree or disagree. Teep shrugs. “Goodness, you’re easy to please.” Money’s not an issue to Teep. “So, do you have a place around here? Or do you want to move in?”

“I can move in.”

“Oh! Great. I um, think I have a room free.” She laughs, a touch uncertainly. “Unless I put some more equipment in it. Hard to find space for stuff around here. You don’t have to walk back to the Fast Travel Station if you don’t want to.”

“I can see that.” Teep gives the room a dry look. “I can sleep on the roof if there’s no room.”

“Don’t sleep on the roof! It’s cold out there! And don’t worry, I’ll clean the place up! I need to find my other case of slides anyway. They should be hiding here somewhere.” A vague hand is waved. “I last saw it in that corner.” She stands. “So, I’ll show you to your room.”

“Alright.” Said room is free, much to her relief. It consists of a cot, locker, low table and sealed windows. It’s the several metres wide and tall, so Teep doesn’t need to worry about banging their head on the ceiling if they got up too fast (compared to old haunts).

“Do you need help moving your stuff in?” Zoeya blinks at Teep as if expecting them to suddenly spawn a bunch of bags.

Teep digistructs a single sniper rifle case, dropping onto the floor. “Done.”

“That was fast!” Zoeya’s hand is on her face. “You travel light! I really envy that.” She is definitely not being sarcastic, based on her tone and expression. “Do you need some time to settle in?”

“I can start tomorrow at dawn.”

“Fantastic! I’ll see you then.” Zoeya leaves Teep to unpack, skipping down the hallway.

\--

Zoeya gets used to having Teep around in about two weeks. Teep generally stays out of her way in the first week, until she sighs and tells them that she’s not going to throw things at them.

She learns to recognize the dull colours of their jacket in the hallways. She doesn’t burden them with fieldwork right away, careful to prepare them as best as she can with less intensive tasks.

Half her lessons are spent showing Teep how to calibrate and operate the equipment scattered around the Dahl fort. It’s easy, teaching them; Teep doesn’t talk (which she doubly makes up for) and they rarely have questions. The other half is going over specimens with Teep. Teep’s not squeamish or afraid of getting their hands dirty so she can give them some basic dissections and biopsies to do later on.

It’s hard to guess if they really did understand, sometimes. She just trusts that they do. Besides, her notes and manuals are free to be grabbed and examined if she’s not around.

Still, Teep picks up stuff lightning fast, faster than any other student or assistant she’s ever had. She finds them flipping through the microscope manual out of curiosity. One hour later, she finds them fiddling with the microscope as though they’ve used it all their whole life. They pull their goggles down whenever she approaches.

The first time she’d sneaked up on them, Teep had gone tense, all their fingers twitching against their side. They hadn’t been mad, merely caught off guard. She gets the feeling that not many people could do that, feeling guilty. Zoeya learns to make noise wherever she is to alert Teep to her presence to avoid startling them.

There’s another thing: Teep didn’t exactly sleep. Zoeya checks on her cameras every nine hours. Pandora’s long cycle means that she’s interrupting her own sleep to offload the footage of captures onto her database. She’s used to it; Teep volunteers to do so in her stead once they caught onto her wanderings.

She doesn’t want to trouble them, but Teep had insisted and well, if there’s any problems, then they’ll tell her, right? The recording room is at the end of the hallway.

Out of habit, Zoeya checks it. Exactly every nine hours, Teep’s sitting in the chair, supervising the offloading. They’re not sleeping, staring at the main screen with arms folded across their chest. She leaves them to it, sensing that her offer to take over is going to be gently rebuffed.

A month following Teep’s arrival, Zoeya’s prepares to collect the cameras. It’s a tough job; she had Rythian around for the setting up. Without him, the job’s three times harder, seeing as he’d initially placed them. It’s time to test Teep’s abilities. Zoeya shakes her head. 

She’s being unfair, it’s not exactly a test and it’s fine if Teep can’t do it since a bunch of cameras aren’t worth sacrificing them.

Against her protests, Teep takes the coordinates of the cameras and sets off into the swamp. Zoeya stays in the console room, providing directions via ECHO, hoping that no trouble will happen. Teep returns about five hours later with nary a scratch on them.

Every camera’s accounted for, something that she’d never expected to happen. Teep reacts to her rambling gratitude by rubbing the back of their head, wandering off to switch their boots, gloves and jacket.

Plus, the place’s cleaner with Teep around. While Zoeya’s system consists of memorizing where she last left something, Teep’s system operates on logic by separating topics. 

This takes them about two weeks, having to sift through each mountain, sitting cross-legged on the floor. She has no idea if they’re actually reading her work, or going by the titles. She can’t deny that their system lets her find whatever she’s looking for in about five seconds compared to the original half an hour.

Zoeya tries to repay them by cooking. Her cooking’s a hit and miss affair, which has Teep skipping meals (always bad, given how skinny they are to begin with). Ravs regularly drops by in the second week, citing that he wanted to practice his cooking anyway for a more ‘appreciative’ audience. Teep’s busy with the coffee machine when he’s explaining this, not looking at either of them.

So, that’s meals settled. She has a gut feeling that Teep and Ravs go way back, further than what Ravs’ vague ‘Teep’s a regular at my bar’ explanation says. Ravs thrives on her stories, offering plenty of his own as entertainment.

She has plenty to tell of Rythian; poor Rythian, initially stumbling across her taming a group of skags using a skagwhispering technique passed onto her by a lone wanderer, and ‘rescued’ her by teleporting her to safety. He’d followed her around after, apparently unable to deal with letting her wander around Pandora on her own.

Ravs and Teep listen closely to those stories, so she tries her best to remember what she can of him. Rythian’s probably another one of Ravs’ regulars, hence the two’s attentiveness whenever he’s mentioned.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Martyn: Now look what the skag dragged in! It’s Saberial and HybridPanda!

Saberial: Sheriff Martyn! You called?

HybridPanda: Nice place you got here. 

Martyn: I did! Welcome to Lynchwood! Pardon the mess, I’m still cleaning up after the last sheriff.

Saberial: What happened?

Martyn: I don’t want to talk about it!

Saberial: Sorry–

Martyn: Naw, I’m just kidding, best you hear it from me rather than the townsfolk, who like to exaggerate if it means adding a little suspense. Here’s how it went down: Turpster wasn’t abiding by the law anymore. As the deputy, I stepped up when I couldn’t take his spitting on the badge.

Saberial: Why didn’t you step up sooner?

Martyn: See, I had a little talk with him couple weeks back. I thought he’d...listen. He did. Just, not in the way I expected.

HybridPanda: This wouldn’t happen to involve the dead bodies hanging outside Lynchwood, would it?

Martyn: Yeah, it does. He lynched a bunch of bandit scouts stumbling into town. Didn’t give them a fair trial or anything, he just accused them of trespassing. Thing is, he murdered those bandits in front of their boss as a ‘warning’ that Lynchwood’s off limits to people like them.

Saberial: Oh.

Martyn: Plus, he decided to really crack down on whatever Hyperion's deemed a crime. Drinking, loitering, profanity, you name it, Turpster threw people in jail for it and flashed his badge while he did it. The posse was running around wild too, scaring people and making sure nobody was breaking any rules, even if they had to stretch the law in places. It didn’t sit so well with me once he started randomly hanging people.

HybridPanda: You should have shot him.

Martyn: I tried to duel him for his badge! He got real mad, ranted and raved about me backstabbing him, wanting power and all that crap, but something broke in him when I told him, right to his face, that he’s about as bad as those bandits he murdered. Something...broke in the man. He just put down Law and got ready to leave town. Except, the family and friends of all those folks he murdered didn’t want him to just go. Oh no, they wanted him hung. I put him in jail while I talked it out with the people. The people won. He’d be hanged at high noon, blindfolded so that he never got to see the sun ever again.

Saberial: You’re smiling. Something happened.

Martyn: Turps didn’t get hanged. A mysterious ‘stranger’ wearing a cowboy hat and a bandanna showed up on a skag, leapt up onto the stage and cut him loose, grabbed him and took off.

HybridPanda: Were you the stranger?

Martyn: People’ll tell you that I was standing on the stage, about to flip the lever. So nope, it definitely wasn’t me.

HybridPanda: Who was it?

Martyn: I have no idea. It was probably a passing Vault Hunter who felt like helping out a poor sheriff. Anyway, their bandanna came off near the edge of town. I thought you’d like to have a look at it. It seems like something you mercs would use.

Saberial: Sure.

HybridPanda: This isn’t a bandanna, it’s an Oz kit mask.

Martyn: Really? I wouldn’t have a clue. It just looked like a bandanna.

Saberial: I really like the paint job on it. It’s got teeth on it!

HybridPanda: I’ve seen this before.

Saberial: Where?

HybridPanda: I’ve broken a similar one. Teep really likes putting teeth on their masks.

Saberial: ...Panda.

HybridPanda: Sheriff, which way did the stranger go?

Martyn: Couldn’t say. I picked up the mask about two months back, so this ‘Teep’ could be anywhere by now.

HybridPanda: Dammit!

Martyn: I’m also really sad. You don’t recognise me, but I recognise you.

Saberial: I feel like I know you.

HybridPanda: Same.

Martyn: If I do this to my voice…how’s that?

Saberial: ...InTheLittleWood?

HybridPanda: You ass! Why didn’t you say so at the start!

Martyn: It took you two half a fucking hour! I’m flummoxed! Pained! Wounded! Is this what many years of friendship comes to?

HybridPanda: Stop copying Flax! 

Saberial: We had no idea you were a sheriff! Come here, lemme give you a hug.

Martyn: LUNGS, FIZONE. LUNGS.

Saberial: Whoops. 

Martyn: Gasp, thanks. I stupidly put my name into a draw and got picked, so I got stuck with it. Looks like I’m sticking out for real, now that Turps is gone.

HybridPanda: How’s the group?

Martyn: We got a couple of new members! I wanted to run them over with you.

Saberial: Who’s this ‘edgelord19575’ you’re looking at?

Martyn: A good friend! I’ve already sponsored their sub. Hope you don’t mind. We met a couple years ago. They’re also Pandoran, but are a coast away. They’re good.

HybridPanda: Well, they’d better be super good. We don’t just accept  _ anybody _ into the group.

Martyn: They’re about as good as Green–what’s up? You didn’t eat the skag tongues from the vendor outside, did you?

HybridPanda: …Might be those.

Saberial: Panda, I told you not to eat those!

HybridPanda: They can’t be as bad as the jerky! But they’re not as nice those spicy noodles you bought me. I could go for some of that now.

Saberial: Sorry, you’ll have to excuse Panda, if Panda throws up on you.

Martyn: No worries, been meaning to get the carpet replaced in here anyway. Turps used to drink a lot too, which...kind of explains the other stains.

Saberial: Panda, remind me to wash my boots later.

Martyn: Anyway, Bebop’s a bit weird ‘cause they’re so literal, but you should see their accuracy stats. I’ve never seen anything like it! Only Green and you two could achieve that.

Saberial: Yeah, you mentioned that they actually called the doctor on you when you said that were ‘dying’.

Martyn: ‘Dying’ in this case being ‘laughing my fucking head off’. I guess they’re not up to date on modern slang yet. They’re really good with military slang, though.

HybridPanda: Fucking incredible.

Saberial: You don’t think...it could be Green under a new name?

HybridPanda: Can we talk to ‘Bebop’ now?

Martyn: I don’t think it’s Green being a troll, but sure! They’re usually awake. They must be an insomniac like Green.

BebopVox: Hello!

Martyn: Bebop! Meet FiZone and GodOfArrows, they’re part of our group.

BebopVox: It’s a pleasure to meet you! I have heard many good things about you two! Especially from InTheLittleWood!

Martyn: Aw, you always flatter me, Bebop.

BebopVox: How may I assist you today?

Saberial: We’d like to officially welcome you to the group!

BebopVox: Really? This is excellent news! I’m honoured!

Saberial: Welcome aboard!

HybridPanda: ...Yeah, hi.

BebopVox: How should we celebrate?

Martyn: We can have a party later in InsideGone!

BebopVox: Should I bring anything?

Martyn: Haha, just yourself!

BebopVox: Unfortunately, I am needed now. We shall talk more later about this party! I’m so excited!

Martyn: Later!

Saberial: Bye!

HybridPanda: ...It’s not Green. Green doesn’t sound like that. Green doesn’t  _ act _ like that.

Saberial: Green might have changed.

HybridPanda: No, they haven’t.

Martyn: You came here to find Green?

HybridPanda: And someone else.

Saberial: Hey Panda, mom’s calling. 

HybridPanda: Ughhhhh, fine, I’ll answer. If she wants me to come home sooner, the answer’s fucking ‘no’.

Saberial: She just wants to see if you still want your new binder!

HybridPanda: I don’t need a binder now! She always forgets! Excuse me, I gotta tell my mom some personal shit.

Saberial: ...Hey, Martyn, can we talk real quick? It’s about Green.

Martyn: Sure? I can also talk to you about my new plan for a posse consisting entirely of people named ‘Tom’ since I already got two on board!

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Turpster: Put me down! As the sheriff–watch your hands!

Teep: …

Turpster: Oof! I’ll have you know that this is against the law, kidnapping a sheriff!

Teep: …

Turpster: And so’s shooting the sheriff. 

Teep: …

Turpster: What’d you want?

Teep: …

Turpster: I’m  _ blindfolded _ so I can’t see whatever you’re fucking doing! Unhand me, you filthy bandit!

Teep: …

Turpster: Putting me on the skag was a terrible plan! Haha, now I can escape! Toodles, motherfucker! I’m free! Hahahaha!

Teep: …

Martyn: How’d it go?

Teep: …

Martyn: He’s gone? Good. You can find the payment at drop number eight, plus a tip of eridium. Hey, uh...if any bounty hunters are looking for you, I don’t think I can say ‘no’ to helping them. 

Teep: …

Martyn: That’s fine? Alright. Sorry, you know how it is, since I’m a sheriff and all. Gotta stand by the law.

Teep: …

Martyn: No hard feelings? Alright. Thanks for your help, Vault Hunter. Hey, wait, do I know you?

Teep: …

Martyn: I swear, you remind me of someone.

Teep: …

Martyn:  _ GREEN? _ WAIT, WAIT, DON’T CUT THE ECHO–

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Zoeya’s fifth laboratory is drafty, former agricultural barn placed next to a plantation. The plantation’s adapted to the ways of Pandora, becoming an invasive, sprawling mess of greenery hooking its roots into the soil to claim it. 

She’s kicking around an idea for a paper on invasive species, peering at her collected sap samples nestling in their corked test tubes. When she gets back, she’d like to run a genetic analysis (fine, maybe a few), to trace the original lineage of the grove of trees steadily expanding across the landscape. Dumping a bunch of similarly related species in one place’s bound to produce a few unique finds.

The equally expansive mess of her notes on her screen’s giving her a headache. The downside to scribbling her thoughts on whatever’s at hand makes it difficult to find what the original train of thought was. Zoeya’s patient, however, and Teep’s equally patient. 

They help her decipher her notes, which she’s grateful for. It’s nice to have someone else around who she can chatter to. The collection’s now housed in the original notebook, a rare feat with how she usually works.

It’s hard not to feel self-conscious given that she’s technically Teep’s boss, but she’s already told them bits and pieces of her own personal life. 

A career based on running from planet to planet, chasing one paper after another’s left Zoeya with the need to bond with people so she feels less alone. There’s friends and family bothering her every now and again, but it’s not the same over an ECHO device, and reception gets weird sometimes. Plus, people don’t really want to listen to her talk about animal’s naughty bits for twenty minutes (which Teep is strangely okay with).

Since arriving on Pandora, she’s met a few people who’re part of her (temporary) contacts. Lomadia’s off scouting a wildlife reserve on the west coast. Zoeya sets a reminder to check in with her. That comes  _ after _ she compiles this lot of notes.

Teep left for one of their map filling walks roughly an hour ago. Zoeya taps her pencil on the desk. It’s been two hours since she sat down. If she’s not getting it done tonight, she’s not getting it done tonight. The sap samples get shut back in their storage unit, along with the thousand or so other specimens she’s collected on this trip.

See, Teep, she actually does put things back into their proper place. Teep’s made it a point to obtain an extra three storage units (from where, she can’t imagine), piling all her precious equipment, extra samples and excess gear into them. It solves her original problem of having to play ‘what can I take and what do I have to leave behind’ game. In her defense, she didn’t think that she’d end up with this much stuff.

Pandora’s a scientific hotbed, practically a rare, one of a kind gem. She’s eager to make the most of her experience while she’s here. There’ll definitely be a second expedition in the future–expedition’s a great word. She scratches it onto a piece of paper.

Her mind chafes at having to work. Giving up, Zoeya sticks the pencil behind her ear, suppressing a little groan of annoyance. A break’s in order.

The laptop's where she last left it, by the couch. Zoeya fires it up, parking her fresh cup of tea beside it. Teep shouldn’t be back for another few hours. Time is of the essence; there’s one season left of an animated ECHOnet show for her to devour. 

It’s a children’s show, packed with a range of characters that parents struggled to remember when buying toys; Zoeya began watching the show out of curiosity during a bout of extreme boredom during the flight down from Elpis. The plot’s simple, complicating with every arc. It’s the kind of show where rewatching’s effective. Since she can’t be bothered, Zoeya contends with searching for meta posts that do all the critical explaining.

One day, she’d like to discuss this with someone, without any fear of dying of embarrassment because it’s a children’s show but it’s her guilty pleasure. Her secret, guilty pleasure. She’s fine with discussing the finer points of a digestive system, but starting on her favourite character narratives is like saying out loud that she cruises three dating sites in her spare time.

She forgets about the time, too fixated on the laptop’s screen to hear Teep’s light footsteps in the hallway. Teep’s form moves past her. Zoeya holds her breath, trying to look like she’s doing work.

Teep retrieves a new battery from a storage unit, slotting it into the underside of a camera. They move to leave the room. Zoeya exhales. They hadn’t seen her screen (currently paused on a boss fight, where someone is about to be a self-sacrificing idiot).

“The third season’s way better,” Teep signs, departing when her mouth falls open.

\--

– / / FiZone is no longer idle. / / –

FiZone: stop making vore jokes

DiNoScope: if we dont are we in vore it

GodOfArrows: FFFFFFFFFFFFFF 

FiZone: green stfu

DiNoScope: i cant believe you of all people are into vore jokes

GodOfArrows: greens a meme loving fuck like the rest of us

DiNoScope: i am i got no shame about that

FiZone: are you going to watch the final season with us

DiNoScope: no

GodOfArrows: you gotta if you want to not be spoiled

DiNoScope: fine

GodOfArrows: good green

DiNoScope: fuck you

GodOfArrows: ill whisper lovingly into your ear and then we make love until its the break of dawn and then i cook you pancakes

DiNoScope: you stole that from the last book you read

GodOfArrows: excuse me the pancakes are original so pls do not steal

FiZone: when you two are done making out with words, i’m ready

DiNoScope: one last thing

GodOfArrows: NO DONT DO IT

DiNoScope: BLUE WIG, THICC ASS, GIVE ‘EM BACKLASH, THINK SLOW, GET TRASH, MAKE ‘EM THINK PAST

FiZone: YOU’VE DONE IT, NOW I GOTTA PUT THAT ON BEFORE WE START

GodOfArrows: now its gonna be stuck in my head for hours

DiNoScope: good

\--

Zoeya’s feet dip into the river. Her sketchbook’s being overworked, swift strokes of the pencil filling in her current location. 

Teep’s fishing for life in the river. She figures that if anybody’ll catch something, it’ll be Teep, who could sit still for two hours staring down a pregnant rakk hive to get her the footage of it giving birth.

She hears the rod being drawn back, the plop of the lure splashing as Teep reels in the line. They didn’t catch anything, despawning the rod. Their boots brush long, hanging stalks of bankgrass as they stride towards her. 

> we need to move.

“Where?” Zoeya chews on the end of her pencil. Teep touches her shoulder, pointing with their other hand; and she jolts, staring into the sky. “ _ Oh _ .” Black smoke. She stands up; Teep catches her sketchbook, pushing it into her hands, as with her boots. “The lab!”

Sketchbook dumped into her module, Zoeya fumbles, tugging her boots on. Teep’s already in the technical, firing it up as she gets in. Teep’s driving’s no worse than hers so she doesn’t get motion sickness when the technical drifts.

By the time they reach the barn serving as the laboratory, flames lick along the furthest side. The dry wood fuels its hunger, snapping and crumpling. The incredible heat compresses Zoeya’s lungs, forcing her back to the technical when she tries to see if anything’s survived. 

Teep’s hand is on her arm, a reminder to keep back. The whirling inferno of fire reflects off their black goggles. 

Zoeya shakes her head. “Forget about the lab, we need to get out of here!”

> you go and ill meet you at ravs place

> i promise

“Teep!” Zoeya’s own attempt to grab Teep fails; Teep dodges her, sprinting towards the safer end of the building.

Zoeya fumbles with the technical’s ignition. Her safety’s a priority because without her, the project won’t get anywhere, but at the same time, that’s over a year’s worth of–Teep’s gone back in to get her notebooks.

Swearing, Zoeya follows the path that they’d used to get back into the building. A door hangs off its hinges. Zoeya kicks the decimated lock aside, running down the hallway. None of her storage units are present; Teep must have grabbed them on the way in, but that’s pointless if they’re not coming back out.

Deeper she travels, enduring the air that cooks her from the inside out. Her Oz kit kicks in when it reaches the point of pain, sparking tears. The shield Teep keeps sneakily attaching to her belt begins to tick down.

She shouldn’t be here, this is the last place she needs to be but her gut keeps telling her that something’s wrong.

Zoeya desperately casts her mind back to the last location of her notebooks. It’s not in the kitchen, because she hadn’t seen it occupying half of the table. It’s not in her room, her room’s impossible to work in. It’s in the far room, with all her precious, irreplaceable samples. The fire’s closing in on that room.

Holding back her tears, Zoeya rams the door. The door’s made of simple wood, serving as mere courtesy rather than the heavy duty ones back at the Dahl fort.

The crack of breaking wood as she bursts in has her screaming. The floor shakes. Zoeya waves the smoke out of her eyes and face, coughing. Teep’s on the floor, sprawled out on their side. A beam of wood’s destroyed her worktable; the storage unit of samples is nowhere to be found, as with her notebook. The beam’s pinning Teep, one of their legs caught underneath it.

When they spot her, they don’t react.

> get out of here

“No!” Zoeya dodges the falling timber, crouching by them. They're not hurt, their shield flickering like hers is.

> zoeya no

“Zoeya, yes!” She hisses. The heat from the beam trapping Teep’s leg has her recoiling. She gasps, flapping her pained hand to cool it. Even with a shield equipped, it hurts.

Teep manages to sit upright. The fire’s still roaring around the two of them. Every bit of destruction makes her flinch. 

In one hand, they spawn her missing notebook. With the other, they unclip one of their digistruct modules. A peek of the contents tells her that every single one of her storage units are housed within. Teep shoves her back, insisting that she leave.

She could save herself and her research, leaving Teep to die. 

Zoeya shoves the notebook into her crowded inventory. Her inventory rejects the module. Rather than waste time, she shoves the module down her front. It slips into her bra, safe and sound. Teep gives her a dry, judgemental look.

“I don’t have any inventory space left!” She hastily says. Pushing the beam’s no good, it’ll just burn her. Her oxygen levels are dipping into the orange zone, shield levels down to half.

Teep digistructs a grenade mod. Yes, she knows Teep collects firearms and weapons. Even if she plays it off like it’s nothing, she’s uncomfortable with having them in her laboratory. Teep keeps them hidden when they’re not fiddling with them. Out of sight, out of mind.

> take the mod already

“I’m not blowing you up!” Zoeya’s indignant shout is met with an eye roll.

Teep takes the module and mimes throwing it at the beam. The way the roof alarmingly creaks has her grabbing it. It’s her first time using it. It pops up in her HUD. The grenades filled in the mod are loaded, ready to use.

> back up and throw one at the beam

Zoeya moves to the middle of the room, mindful of how everything’s on fire. She and Teep at the only things that aren’t. The grenade in her hand’s primed. As if sensing her fear, Teep sends another message.

> it wont explode until it hits the beam

She pulls her arm back. It’ll be fine, this is just like throwing a ball. The grenade whooshes through the air, slamming into the beam. Zoeya gasps as ice explodes, fragments burying into the wood and Teep’s leg, spraying all over the floor. The blue-white ice clashes with the fire, smothering it.

Teep shoves at the cooled beam. A boot’s planted on the ice. Zoeya crouches, grunting as she helps. The beam hits the floor with a thud. She grabs Teep by the arm, dragging them towards the exit.

The smoke in the hallway is its own noxious, poisonous layer. Teep has to lean on a wall for a second before they can move. Zoeya urgently tugs at their sleeve. They make no attempt to knock her hand away, following her back through the doomed laboratory.

Her Oz kit’s down to the red, her shield losing its protection by the time she kicks another door down. The technical’s no use, either stolen or dead. The forest is a mess of charred wood, crackling leaves and ash, pointless destruction as far as the eye can see.

“Just a little further!” Zoeya encourages Teep, choosing to drag them along. Teep lets her lead them. She has to keep dragging them, and it’s not like Teep to trip or stumble.

The Fast Travel Station is a blessed sight. The river’s not safe from the blaze ravaging the forest. Zoeya tugs Teep over to the still intact machine.

Teep’s head lifts, to stare at the bridge on the other side. Zoeya inputs the code to Three Horns. “Teep, come on!” She reminds. They keep staring at the bridge; she doesn’t know what they’re looking at that has their whole attention. 

The Fast Travel Station whirls the two of them away from hell, dumping the two onto snowed on concrete.

She lets go of Teep’s arm. The cold, crisp air’s beautiful. It also  _ hurts _ . Before she can ECHO Ravs, Teep spawns their Stingray with one hand. The shove to her arm has none of their usual strength behind it. They shove her again when she doesn’t budge. She gets the point to go and find Ravs.

While she doesn’t want to, she’s forced to leave Teep.

Ravs is working by the gate protecting Sanctuary Hole. He’s holding a shovel in his hand, tugging his leather jacket closer around him. A pile of newly dug snow’s building by his feet. The Stingray’s approach has him frowning before he ses her, recognising her.

“Zoeya!” He sees the black marks on her face and clothes, dropping the shovel to march towards her. The grin slides off his face. “What happened?”

Ravs’ hands are on her shoulders. Zoeya gulps down a sob. “Ravs, the lab, there was a fire and Teep–”

He waits for her to calm before leaning over to spawn a second Stingray. Back at the Fast Travel Station, Teep’s slumped on top of an ammo crate. Zoeya honestly thinks that they’re dead, until a hand’s raised to acknowledge Ravs. The Stingrays despawn.

Within a minute, Ravs bundles Teep up, shifting them to the back of a technical. Zoeya stays in the back, minding Teep. Teep’s head turns to face her. They take their hand, gently wiping off the black mark on her cheek.

> relax

> i dont die here

“That’s not funny!” She grips their hand. Teep appears to laugh, stopping a second later to cough, sitting up to do so.

In the Crooked Caber, Ravs moves Teep into his room. He moves Zoeya into a guest room. He tells her to use as much water as she pleases; he gets it all from the melted snow coming down from mountain anyway, via Parvis’ dam. She doesn’t know who Parvis is. Ravs is working off his worry by mindlessly talking.

Her shower’s short and quick, the black marks washing away when she scrubs at them with her hand. It takes her three checks to get it into her head that she’s not harmed. It hurts to breathe, though. It’s like the fire had gouged a course to her airways, leaving tender skin behind that sends a shock of startling pain with every breath.

The back of her throat’s scorched, appearing redder than usual when she checks in the mirror. Refraining from poking at it, she he changes into her other work outfit. A reminder’s set to do her laundry and see if that set of clothes can be salvaged. Maybe Ravs knows a person who can help her.

The door to Ravs’ room opens a fraction when she gently knocks. Ravs lets her in. “

“Where’s Teep?” The bed’s empty and so is the room, save for her and Ravs. His leather jacket’s hanging from a hook on the wall.

“Bathroom.” Ravs nods at the bathroom door. The door’s shut. “You’re not hurt?” He peers at her, checking her over. “I have a basic medkit you can use.”

“No, I’m fine.”

He hands her a glass of water from a tray. “Then drink.” She accepts an extra two glasses of water. A coughing fit strikes her during the last glass. Ravs rubs her back; it doesn’t help with the coughing, but the gesture’s reassuring.

“Thank you.”

“You should go and rest.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’ll keep an eye on Teep, even if they tell me to watch you.” He hands her an oxygen canister, plus a painkiller. “Here, this should help you breathe easy.”

Zoeya returns to her room to pass out on the bed. The Oz kit feeds oxygen to her damaged lungs and the painkiller lets her sleep easy.

\--

Once she’s gone, Teep emerges from the bathroom. They lean against the door for a minute, catching their breath. Ravs watches them for any signs of fainting. They make it to his bed without needing his help.They slip under a fur blanket. The blanket shudders as they appear to fight coughing, stilling a few minutes later.

His hand finds on the back of Teep’s head. The jacket’s a clean one; they must have swapped it in the bathroom. Ravs eases the hood down, leaving it pooling on the pillow. He can’t tell if Teep’s already asleep or is still aware of him. He leaves them be, sensing that he won’t be much help. 

Thirty seconds after the door’s closed, Teep tugs off the goggles and face wrappings, despawning them along with their jacket, shield and boots. The chain of dogtags around their neck clink. Teep pushes them to one side.

Ravs is happy to give up his bed, saying that he’ll sleep in the other guest room. Getting him to leave had taken significantly less effort than planned.

Him helping with their hood’s a surprise but not unusual, considering Ravs’ other, charismatic habits. The bed and blankets smell like him, dousing Teep’s basic senses in what they consider to be borderline hell but is probably heaven to Ravs’ legion of admirers.

Given that looking nonchalant (even if they wanted to cough up a lung the entire time) burned up the rest of their energy, Teep yawns–and grabs a pillow as Ravs enters the room. He collects the empty glasses.

“You’re not asleep.” Ravs sounds like he’s about to deliver a lecture about the healing power of sleep after nearly dying in a fire. He doesn’t. “But I don’t think you should be smothering yourself with a pillow. We’d miss you.”

Teep does have enough energy to flip him the middle finger, earning a laugh. He leaves. Teep drops the pillow, gritting their teeth.

In their damaged left eye, stars keep dancing.

\--

– / / GodOfArrows is no longer idle. / / –

GodOfArrows: fizone tells me you ordered a new jacket

DiNoScope: fizone lies

GodOfArrows: dude this is like your seventh jacket in a year

DiNoScope: stfu

DiNoScope: growing pains suck

GodOfArrows: what

GodOfArrows: youre still growing

DiNoScope: yeah

GodOfArrows: heh

DiNoScope: why do i have to be so fucking tall

GodOfArrows: maybe stop eating so much dick

DiNoScope: if i stop eating dick will you stop sucking at games

GodOfArrows: absolutely

FiZone: no dicks in the chat!

DiNoScope: but what if john is a dick

GodOfArrows: then i go

GodOfArrows: my dick people need me

FiZone: i was joking

DiNoScope: the dick people called theyre missing one

FiZone: its not me is it

DiNoScope: it is you

Fizone: rude!

GodOfArrows: BURN

\--

Recovery takes about a week for Teep, two for Zoeya. Naps are fun and all, but she misses being outside in the sun. The laptop that Teep’s given her keeps her entertained (since her last one’s buried in a storage unit somewhere and she’s too lazy to go dig it up).

Heading downstairs, she spots Teep in Ravs’ kitchen, shadowing Ravs as he makes lunch.

“Ask me nicely and  _ then _ I’ll consider shoving olive oil up my ass.” Zoeya bursts out laughing when Teep stops signing.

“I don’t know what’s happening, but please don’t do that.” Zoeya can feel Teep’s gaze on her, noting if she’s well enough to be on her feet. “I’m fine! Look at me, no more nausea! Or coughing! Or sore lungs!”

Teep’s gaze grows skeptical. Ravs sits down so he can finish preparing lunch. Lunch happens to be crispy wedges, cut into slices and grilled. Teep steals half a plate, some white sauce dip and escapes to the roof, as is their usual habit.

She and Ravs talk; Ravs has the key to a place called the Caustic Caverns. He and Teep went exploring earlier; it’s infested with all manner of creatures, but with a bit of hard work, it’s possible to move her in. Zoeya agrees.

It’ll be good for her and Teep to stay within walking distance of Ravs.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

MintyMinute: It’s Junior’s birthday! Thought it’d be nice to have you sitting in on this. Arsenal’d be here for this, but he’s a little high on painkillers right now. Ravs is dying from a bad thresher blow to the back.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: He’s fine? Okay, good. So is Arsenal. That was the day you decided to adopt them.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: That  _ is _ the right day, isn’t it?

Teep: …

MintyMinute: Excellent. I’d have been pissed if it wasn’t.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: Junior, come say ‘hi’ to your other parent.

Teep: …

MintyMinute; Look at that, sonny still remembers you, even if you’ve been a deadbeat parent–knock it off, paying child support ain’t the least you can do. You could come up here and spend time with them, and their godmother.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: I’d nominate Zylus to be sonny’s other caretaker, but he’d probably freak.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: Parenthood suits us both, I think.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: Why’re you laughing? You think I’d be a terrible mom? No? You hate kids? Shame on you. Fine, who else do you think’d be a good parent for Junior?

Teep: …

MintyMinute: I ain’t seen hair or hide of Rythian. I stopped sending him stuff of Junior when my messages got bounced back.

Teep: … 

MintyMinute: When? Oh, years ago.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: I didn’t tell you ‘cause I thought you knew.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: A shrug ain’t a proper answer. That’s real rude.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: Since you’re missing out on the party, I’ll send you some cake.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: You can’t hate cake! Everybody loves cake! I’ll send you an extra big slice, then.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: If you don’t like it, just pass it to Ravs, he’ll eat  _ anything _ .

Teep: …

MintyMinute: Heh, I agree, Ravs will eat anything. Junior, say bye. Someday, Rythian’ll be back for you. Don’t worry, Teep won’t let you down like he did.

Teep: …

MintyMinute: Sshh, don’t lie in front of the kid, they’ll grow up jaded.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Ravs is sending people into the Caustic Caverns to help Zoeya. Teep can’t shake the feeling that he’s up to something. He hasn’t elaborated on who the incoming visitors are. Ravs can be trusted, his habit of trolling Teep makes them wary of his jobs. While this one did come from Zoeya, it’d be exactly like Ravs to turn it into one of his little jokes.

Teep uses the momentum gained from sliding down the side of the caverns to make a leap for the train tracks. By taking this shortcut, they can skip the varkid hives clustered at the lift.

They hit the train tracks at a roll, flipping onto both feet. Getting into sniping position atop the Dahl building takes a few minutes. Teep borrows their sniper rifle’s enhanced zoom to watch the lift descend. They could finish tuning two guns in the time it took for it to reach the bottom.

They count three individuals. The first is a Siren, short and with striking, purple tattoos that mark her as one. She’s not a problem, her confident stride placing her ahead of the others. The second is a blond haired tourist with a metal arm, lagging behind with anxious glances betraying their fear of the caverns. Also not a problem. The third is Rythian.

Teep’s finger rests on the trigger as their scope remains on Rythian’s head. Rythian’s alive. They’ve never hated or blamed him for what happened in the Vault of the Queen. Rythian’s own depression took care of that for Teep.

Is it really Rythian striding across to meet Zoeya, or a disguised doppelganger in his place? While the Quick Change machines barred full-body changes, a few people bypassed that to cheat. Teep’s used that trick to a few times to sneak into locations to make kills.

There’s one way to test if it’s indeed Rythian. Teep waits until Rythian’s distracted by his companions. They pull the trigger.

As the shot makes itself known, Teep watches through the scope. For less than a second, Rythian’s form stutters like a glitch on a screen; the shot grazes past him. It should have killed him. Instead, it missed. Nobody who wasn’t deliberately watching wouldn’t have noticed it.

Teep lets time resume at its normal pace, lowering their sniper rifle. Underneath the mask, they smirk. It’s Rythian, alright. They duck behind the pillars, reloading.

Right on cue, Zoeya admonishes them over ECHO, hurrying outside to meet the visitors. Rythian’s unharmed, merely startled. Teep slings their rifle over their back, climbing down to meet him.

It’s been years. The gap in their histories makes Rythian tread carefully around Teep. Teep doesn’t blame him for wanting caution. He must still believe that they despise him, even if Teep doesn’t.

Zoeya plays the apologetic host, making tea and rambling about her new laboratory. She’s glad to see Rythian too, keeping him in her line of sight. She lets Rythian and Teep have their privacy at last, hustling Nanosounds and Lalna to another part of the building to show off her research space.

Teep takes the first step towards repairing a stalled relationship. They hand Rythian a piece of skag jerky. Rythian stares at it like it’s a human heart they’re offering.

“Are you saying sorry?” It’s obvious, isn’t it? Maybe not. Teep keeps sharing the jerky with him until it is. “Okay, I accept your apology.” His tone slips out of its calm one into mild exasperation when Teep adds an extra piece, to see his expression change as well. “Just how many do you  _ have _ on you?”

They can’t act like they know each other, but that’s to be expected. Teep makes careful note of his revolted face when he tries a bite of the skag jerky.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Zoeya: Teep? Are you awake?

Teep: …

Zoeya: It’s really cold, and I can’t sleep when it’s this cold. It wasn’t so bad when we were in the other place, but um, it’s super dark and well, it’s cold in dark places–anyway, can I come in?

Teep: …

Zoeya: ...I can? BYOB? What does that mean?

Teep: …

Zoeya: Oh! Bring your own blanket! You sure? I mean, I can try to sleep on the couch, if you’re not comfortable. If you say so.

Teep: …

Zoeya: You’re really warm! But hehe, that’s probably the five blankets you’re hiding under.

Teep: …

Zoeya: If I cuddle, kick, squish you, babble in my sleep or anything else, I’m so sorry!

Teep: …

Zoeya: Psst, thanks.

Teep: …

Zoeya: Gosh, I’m yawning already. Good night.

Teep: …

Zoeya: …You have very nice eyes…

Teep: …

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

As per the Lynchwood call, Saberial’s meeting Nilesy in the Crooked Caber. The bar’s nearly empty, save for a couple of patrons. the bar’s owner, Ravs, is beneath Sanctuary Hole, charging a power core. Hence, the bar is under Nilesy’s care. Nilesy’s not here yet.

Panda’s touring Pandora in their ship, hitting up popular food spots. They’ve promised to pick up food for her on their way back. It’ll be something  _ special. _ This time, Saberial remembered to specify ‘nothing extra spicy’ so there’s no excuse for them to claim that they ‘forgot’.

She’s on a stool, immense boredom driving her to lean on the counter. Pandora so far’s yielded plenty of excitement. Saberial doesn’t mind excitement, or a lack thereof. What she’d really like is a vacation. Sighing, Saberial lapses into a daydream.

Her daydream doesn’t make her that inattentive as to miss a hooded figure leaning on the bar next to her.

“The owner’s beneath us,” Saberial informs them. “I mean–”

“That’s what he’d like to hear,” Teep signs.

Saberial takes a deep breath, her daydream gone like a fleck on the front of her ship during a power clean. She sits up straight, turning to face Teep. Teep gives a little wave, still leaning on the counter.

“Teep?”

“Long time no see, Saberial.”

She knocks the stool over in her haste to gather Teep in her arms. Either they let her hug them, they’re caught off guard or they didn’t dodge her in time. Teep’s so  _ skinny _ , still. They smell like weapons oil with the faint, omnipresent, hint of dust. 

Compared to Martyn’s hug, Saberial keeps Teep’s hug to a simpler level. The last thing she needs is to break any of Teep’s bones, making them think that she’s still mad at them for running all those years ago.

“You’re so tall! I don’t remember you being this tall,” She accuses. Teep pats her on the back, near her spine. Their message sounds amused.

> Or maybe you’ve just gotten shorter.

“That’s mean! I didn’t get any shorter!” Saberial releases them, holding onto their upper arms. She could wrap her palm around one arm if they took off their jacket.

“You’ve gotten bigger here.” Teep knowingly taps her on the bicep. They step back out of her reach, like they’re subtly announcing that ‘touchy feely time is over’.

“Lemme show you what else’s new.” Saberial rolls up a sleeve, flexing her arm to show off the black tattoo to Teep. Teep just tilts their head. Niley’s joined them at the counter.

Someone gasps, behind her. “That’s such a cool tattoo!” When Saberial turns, there’s a woman with her hands pressed to her face, staring with a sparkle-eyed expression at Saberial.

It’s like someone’s set off rainbow fireworks in Saberial’s head, behind her eyes. Standing before her is a tiny, pyro haired, gorgeous, soft babe with the most beautiful smile to exist in the entire universe.

She’d sell her ship to see that smile again.

Teep’s fucking laughing at her. Saberial knows because there’s the tiniest tremor to their shoulders. Nilesy has a shit-eating grin on his face. She  _ must _ say something and not simply stare.

“I’m Saberial,” She ends up saying, dropping her voice to ‘yes, I’m a professional and wasn’t totally staring at you for five seconds’. Leaning on the counter lets her look casual. “Mercenary, and if I play my cards right, the only one you’ll ever need.”

Teep’s losing it by now, their shoulders not as rigid compared to two seconds ago. Nilesy sinks below the counter, stuffing his knuckles into his mouth.

> YOURE SO FUCKING GAY

She’d have told them to shut the fuck up, if Zoeya hadn’t just flashed her a grin (she can  _ grin _ ). “I’m Zoeya, biologist, and I’ve never met a  _ famous _ mercenary before.”

“Am I exactly what you expected?” If Saberial’s voice gets any lower, she could sell her voice for a modulator.

“Oh, consider me very, very _ impressed,” _ Zoeya responds, definitely with a look of approval. “I didn’t realise mercenaries could be so  _ forward _ in their dealings.” She goes to lean on the counter, a finger toying with a stray curl.

“You musn’t have met very many of us, then.” Saberial’s never been so glad that Panda’s not here to witness this flaming trainwreck of atrocious flirting happening. “Tell you what, if you ever need me for a job, why don’t you drop me a line?” 

Her business card’s extracted–her fingers grasp thin air. In her peripheral vision, she spots Teep leaning back, flipping the stolen card into their jacket. Zoeya doesn’t even notice, too focused on her face. 

Saberial pretends Teep hadn’t just directly sabotaged her by pulling off the fastest and stealthiest sleight of hand possible.

“But what if I want you for a job?” Zoeya inquires. “I definitely don’t  _ need, _ but I do  _ want, _ if you catch my drift.” The flirtatious giggle goes right to Saberial’s heart to dislodge it so that it’s hanging dangerously loose.

“I could give you a direct line instead, if you give me your ECHO device.” Saberial extends an inviting hand.

“Why certainly.” Zoeya’s ECHO device has a multitude of stickers plastered all over it. 

Saberial has to avoid making a comment on one she recognises; it’s from a show that she’d forced Teep and Panda to watch with her during one of her post-dating disasters. She carefully inputs her ECHO code and her name, handing it back.

“Do call,” Saberial purrs.

“Oh, I  _ will.” _ Zoeya despawns her ECHO device.

“I’d like to talk with Saberial about a few things, if you don’t mind.” Teep’s nudging Saberial on the arm, driving her from the counter. 

“Gosh, you know, I wouldn’t mind doing that at some point.” Zoeya keeps her eyes on Saberial. 

Saberial winks at Zoeya. Zoeya feigns a blush and waves, winking back. Nilesy pops up from beneath the counter, dabbing tears from his eyes with a handkerchief.

“What’d I miss?” Ravs appears at the back room, missing Teep walking Saberial outside.

“A miracle,” Zoeya dreamily sighs, earning a confused look from Ravs and a rude snort from Nilesy.

Outside, Teep leads Saberial to the edge of town. “That fucking puts Ravs’ flirting to shame,” They sign once the line of buildings hides the two from view.

“I  _ know,”  _ Saberial groans. Now she can blush. “I don’t even know if she bought it! Especially after she walked in on me showing off my tattoo to you!”

“Calm down.” Teep waves a hand. “She definitely bought it.”

“How do you know?” Saberial can’t help sounding skeptical.

“...Because she’s my boss.”

“...I’m so fucking sorry, Teep.” She just hit on Teep’s boss in front of Teep. Saberial moves to throw herself into the circular abyss that gives Sanctuary Hole its name. Teep steps in front of her.

“Hold it.”

“I didn’t realise she’s your boss!” Saberial buries her face in her hands. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have–”

“It’s too late.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I was too busy laughing to do anything.”

_ “You.” _ Saberial’s outrage dies, swamped by embarrassment.

“Look, you like her. She likes you. Do you see what could happen?” Teep makes a complicated gesture that the signing translation software doesn’t catch.

“I throw myself into the hole and we never speak of this again?”

“Panda’s usually the dramatic one,” Teep signs, as a dry observation. “What’s the worst case scenario?”

“I wreck all our lives,” Saberial mumbles.

“Don’t worry about mine, I’ve done that already. Twice.” Teep flashes two fingers at her. This is the most cheer she’s seen from them. “So you’ve just got yours and hers to wreck.”

“Thanks. That really helps.” Saberial lowers her hands to deadeye Teep. “It really takes the pressure off not to fuck up.”

Teep shrugs. “If you’d been anybody else, I wouldn’t trust you with her.”

“Wait, what?”

“I can’t believe I have to literally have to spell it out.” Teep proceeds to sign at a glacial pace, “I’m giving you permission to date my boss...and friend, because she won’t stop referring to me as a friend, which is weird, but I won’t go into that.” The last part’s signed quickly.

“You’re really letting me see her.” Saberial throws her head back and laughs. “I’ll try to make her happy.”

“You  _ will _ make her happy. Trust me.” Teep punches her on the shoulder as they pass her. “Now excuse me, I got to explain to her the exact same deal.”

“Excused,” Saberial says, already giddy with the thought of dating Zoeya.

“I’ll be back to explain what kind of jobs she might ‘want’ you for.” Teep runs before she can swat them.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Nilesy: Hello stranger, what’ll it be?

HybridPanda: I got a little question about those headphones of yours.

Nilesy: Oh, these?

HybridPanda: Yeah, those.

Nilesy: I won these in a raffle!

HybridPanda: You sure?

Nilesy: Yeah!

HybridPanda: If you like those headphones...do you like cats?

Nilesy: Cats are _ everything _ to me.

HybridPanda: Are you the one who asked my sis to find a cat?

Nilesy: Yes!

HybridPanda: You want some cat pics? I printed out some doubles by accident when trying to mail a bunch to my moon friend.

Nilesy: ...You’re serious?

HybridPanda: ...Yeah? It’s just taking up inventory space, and it looks like you’ve been putting cat pictures up in the bar anyway–

Nilesy: HELLO RAVS, WHAT A NICE DAY IT IS OUTSIDE.

Ravs: Yes it is!

Nilesy: WHY DON’T YOU GO OUTSIDE AND SEE IF IT’LL RAIN.

Ravs: I could just turn on the radio.

Nilesy: GO OUTSIDE. GET A TAN. SEE PEOPLE. SHOOT SOMETHING.

Ravs: I think I’ll go and see Zylus.

Nilesy: I WOULD LOVE TO GO AND MEET HIM BUT I HAVE TO CLEAN MY ROOM.

Ravs: Okay! You take care of the place for me.

HybridPanda: Your hand tastes like really nice jam.

Nilesy: I was eating my sandwich, sorry. You want some?

HybridPanda: Fuck yeah, free food!

Nilesy: Is Ravs gone?

HybridPanda: Yes?

Nilesy: Here’s the deal. I’ve been putting cat pictures up one at a time. He hasn’t noticed yet. So far, I’m at eighty pictures, so pretty please don’t fucking  _ ruin _ this for me.

HybridPanda: I have thirty on me. Let’s get to a hundred.

Nilesy: ...You want to see my collection?

HybridPanda: Okay.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Lomadia’s recovery speeds up once she lets herself rest. Lalnable keeps having to convince her to lie down whenever he catches her by the clinic’s door to feed Mister Owl.

Mister Owl shrieks, patrolling the roof of the clinic if Lomadia doesn’t show up at an appointed time for the feeding. Parvis is terrified of it; while Mister Owl didn’t divebomb, the rakk watched Parvis, head swinging back and forth as he moved supplies indoors. He eventually sneaks into the building to avoid the rakk’s intimidating gaze.

When Lomadia is deemed fit to discharge, Lalnable and Parvis let out a sigh. She travels back to Sanctuary Hole, albeit as Teep’s passenger. Teep’s picking her up as a favour to Nilesy; they’ve been introduced via Zoeya and Nilesy. For some reason, Zoeya and Nilesy are under the strange impression that the two will hit it off.

She can’t work out why. She doesn’t see Teep much after that (and the ride from the clinic had been spent in comfortable silence; Teep had stuck to the road to spare her newly healed back).

Mister Owl lives off Ravs’ butchered offcuts, seeing as Lomadia’s in no fit state to go hunting. She seeks Teep in the Caustic Caverns. Zoeya and Saberial greet her, pointing out where Teep’s room is located.

That’s where she finds them. Teep sets aside a set of slides to fetch a chair. She appreciates it, as with the cup of tea they make. They greet her politely; the sniper rifle slung across their back hints that they’re about to head off soon. It’s hard to tell if they’re fine with meeting her like this, if she’s intruding for real or not.

“I’d like to learn how to sharpshoot.” 

Teep shows no signs of having heard her speak. Nilesy’s reminder to be patient with them floats into her mind; Teep is definitely not deaf in spite of being mute. They’re watching her steadily. Having no facial features to guide her reading of them’s throwing her off.

She pulls her thoughts back. Lomadia’s yet to pick up a sniper rifle. This represents a gap in her knowledge that she’d like to fix, as soon as possible. As she opens her mouth to explain her decision, Teep moves.

One of Teep’s hands leaves their jacket to lazily sign, “It’ll cost you.”   
  


“How much?” She asks, a figure popping into her head. Money’s not a problem, even if she had to pay Lalnable.

“Fifty dollars. You get a discount seeing as you’re a friend of Zoeya and Nilesy.” Teep doesn’t seem like the kind of person to rip her off. Zoeya spoke highly of them in her calls. Meeting Teep in person is different than spotting them in the background of Zoeya’s ECHO calls.

  
“Deal.” Lomadia moves to part with her hard earned cash but Teep shakes their head.

“Pay me once you’re satisfied you’ve learned enough.”   
  


She hesitates but decides not to argue. It’ll probably makes sense later. The two of them agree to meet up in a day’s time. The location’s set at Three Horns Valley, near the field of drifting ice floes where nobody ever goes.   
  


\--

  
After spending so long bedridden, the trek has her straining along the last bit when the ground slopes and rises through an icy cavern. Dead bullymong bones mark former occupants, as well as fossilised technical tracks.

Teep’s waiting in the shade of a curved bone protruding out of the ground. She says nothing while returning the nod they give her, glad she doesn’t need to find something appropriate to say as a greeting. Nilesy wouldn’t have minded. Sometimes, words aren’t needed.

Snow crunches under both their boots. Teep takes her down a path, clearly familiar with the landscape. Mister Owl keeps watching by following far above, giant wings spread and beating every now and then to gain height.   
  


There’s not much to look at, so she gazes out over the ocean that peeks at her between the rocks. She’s never been to this part of Three Horns before, having only investigated areas just off the main road.   
  


A bridge’s crossed. The two end up in an old bandit encampment, marked by a shell of Loader corpse. Leaving Lomadia by the arch of bones doubling as an entrance, Teep strides over to a fence thirty or so metres away. Ten empty rakk ale bottles are digistructed and placed in a neat row atop it.

  
“Do you have a sniper rifle of your own?” Teep breaks the silence (well, not quite).

  
She shakes her head. They digistruct a sniper rifle, holding it out to her. Lomadia almost staggers back from how heavy it is–it’s far heavier than a shotgun, maybe triple its weight. In a few seconds, she can balance it without it see-sawing in her hands. It’s also facing the right direction so she avoids that embarrassing mistake.   
  


Teep points to the bottles, wanting her to shoot. It’s ridiculous, she has no experience, without an idea where to put her hands, the sniper rifle cold, alien and unwieldy in her palms.   
  


There’s no way she can hit the bottles from this distance, the icy wind at their backs pushing the sniper rifle from side to side. It’s a minor fight to get it to stay steady, the barrel shaking from the effort.   
  


Teep moves behind her. Shs jumps. Gloved hands gently manipulate hers, lifting the sniper rifle, positioning her hands and arms into the right place. 

The rifle isn’t that heavy anymore, the weight more evenly distributed this way. Embarrassment for making her first mistake has her flushing. Teep doesn’t notice the deeper coloration to her skin, stepping back.   
  


They’re letting her experiment. Lomadia puts her eye to the scope. The crosshairs sway, from her breathing, the wind and how much she’s minutely shivering. Her finger curls around the trigger, pulling hard on it.   
  


Despite having expected it, the sniper rifle recoils into her shoulder. The sound has her tensing, echoing from the gun to race across the ice and snow. The resulting shock numbs her arm from shoulder to wrist, a painful and hideous sensation. A surprised exhale gives her away.

Teep’s tugging the sniper rifle out of her hands before it’s dropped. They peer at her. A nod from her relays that she’s fine. Stretching and rolling her afflicted shoulder makes the numbing subside. There’s not too much damage, her hand testing her muscles by feeling along them.

In that time, Teep goes to find her shot, tracking to the other end of the encampment.

Lomadia’s heart sinks when Teep indicates a marker. Her shot’s nowhere near the first bottle, about ten or so metres skewed to the left. It appears as a barely visible hole in the wall of a roofless hut.   
  


Disappointed at performing worse than she expected, Lomadia stares at the shot. The lessons are her best bet for surviving. The scar from her last fight is a mess that Nilesy still feels guilty about when seeing it, when helping her stretch in the mornings and evenings.   
  


When Teep offers her the sniper rifle, she accepts it. Remembering her last lessons, she corrects her hold. This time, Teep runs their hands down her body. Their help extends to shift her stance.

Teep’s hands never linger, retreating once they’re satisfied. It’d taken less than two minutes to fix all the glaring errors they’d spotted.   
  


Lomadia tries again. At least her second shot’s level with the fence this time. All the bottles are still standing by the time the sniper rifle signals a lack of ammo. She glances back to Teep for help. 

Already on it, Teep hands her some before showing her exactly how to reload. Lomadia is proud that she remembers it only after having been shown once.    
  


The first lesson ends without incident. That said, she’s more comfortable with handling a sniper rifle than previously. Teep escorts her back to Sanctuary Hole on foot. She feeds her rakk scraps from bullymong kills. Teep doesn’t have to wait around. They do, proving just as patient outside of the lessons.

With the messy business of feeding her rakk concluded, Lomadia ECHOs Ravs to let the two back into Sanctuary Hole. He gladly does so, inquiring about their trip; Lomadia answers that it’d been interesting. Teep doesn’t react, though she can sense pleased air around them.

If it’s too cold for outdoor lessons, she visits Teep in their room. Teep demonstrates the art of deconstructing and constructing an entire sniper rifle, restricting it to the spare parts they have on hand. It’s beyond her scope, but Lomadia’s interested in how it all fits together. They also go in detail about calibrations, maintenance and cleaning.   
  


Other lesson focus on the different models, from Maliwan to Jakobs. While the one she’s been using is Jakobs (she appreciates that Teep wants to keep it simple), Teep keeps a sniper rifle of each make in prime working condition.

On a clear day with no wind, they show off the capabilities of each unique sniper rifle in Three Horns. Saberial lends her help by throwing plastic discs as hard, fast and as randomly as possible into the air. Teep’s skill has Lomadia admiring their speed, reloading, efficiency and marksmanship. No discs survive the round, fragments lost in the snow. 

Privately, she’s a little down in that she’ll never be that good. She confesses this to Saberial while grooming Mister Owl.

“You don’t need to be that good, you just got to hit your target!” Saberial advises, with a larger-than-life, boisterous laugh that’s generous with its cheer. It lifts Lomadia’s mood like the right cup of coffee. “Teep’s in a whole class of their own. Don’t let that put you off learning from them.”

Saberial’s right. Lomadia Isn't intimidated by her teacher’s years of experience. She pays attention, getting to grips with the terminology, care and skill that goes into sharpshooting. It’s helpful that Teep’s willing to answer any questions she poses, or repeat an explanation, no matter how trivial.

When she’s not running jobs or managing the wildlife reserve, her spare time is spent practicing everything. She practices until her fingers grow stiff, clumsy and sore, sleep causing her to yawn and falter. When she fumbles, it’s a sign to stop and rest.   
  


Nilesy provides her tea if he’s awake when she returns to the Crooked Caber. He approves of the lessons, since his own brand of pacifism prevents him from killing someone. It’s enigmatic whether or not harming someone’s included. Lomadia doesn’t ask.

“If you need anything, let me know,” He says. She parrots his words back at him. 

Ravs is teaching Nilesy bartending. Nilesy enjoys the lessons. They give him something to do when he’s not helping Zoeya in the Caustic Caverns. While he does offer to share rooms with Lomadia, Ravs steps in to let Lomadia take the second guest room for herself, entrusting her with a key to it.

“Free of charge, just keep it a secret that you’ve got a key to my place or else there’ll be talk.” Ravs brushes off payment, citing the Fridge incident as reason enough to ‘spoil’ her.   
  


During the tenth lesson, Lomadia succeeds in breaking a bottle. She never lets on that the shoulder bruises prove distracting, whether it’s when she bumps the sniper rifle against her shoulder or jostles it when readying.    
  


Before the next lesson, Teep hands her a leather pad (like the kind bandits wore) that she buckles around her shoulder. She doesn’t ask where the pad came from; maybe Teep had hit up the infamous Bloody Bandits for it.    
  


By the twentieth lesson, she takes down half the bottles (if there’s no wind and if there is, she still gets destroys a fair number). The wind pesters her aim, interfering nonstop. Teep hands her a pair of modified snow goggles, clearly secondhand in nature.

They feel more advanced than they look, snug around her head. The lens tint her eyes, protecting her from the glare of the snow and the wind shoving into her sensitive eyes. When she moves to remove them, Teep shakes their head. They want her to keep the goggles.

Come thirty-fifth lesson, she leaves no bottles standing. Teep claps, slowly, in an exaggerated manner. It’s not sarcastic.    
  


She returns the borrowed Jakobs rifle. There’s not much else for her to learn from Teep. It’s surprising in how she’s sad that the lessons have to end. Teep digistructs a sniper rifle, careful to hand it to her. She takes it without thinking.

“I found this spare the other day. It’s now yours,” They sign.

The orange flashing in her HUD’s an indicator of the craftsmanship and rarity. No normal person could ever dream of obtaining a prized legendaries, especially one of Jakobs, that easily. Nobody would willingly hand over one, calling it a ‘spare’ to downplay its true value. It’s worth millions.

Lomadia looks at Teep, trying to understand why they’d give something so valuable away to an amateur. They shrug, providing no helpful insight behind the gesture. Every practical lesson is devoid of talking and signing, guiding her through the principles, adjusting as she learns and leading by example.

The arrangement’s so simple and foolproof: they teach and she learns.

“Thank you.” She doesn’t know how else to thank them, aside from silently vowing that the sniper rifle will be well taken care of, now that it’s entrusted to her for good.

That’s not all they surprise her with. Teep’s arranged for a trip to Digistruct Peak; provided she’d like further tutelage, that is. Lomadia doesn’t hesitate to give her answer: yes, of course. Moving targets add another layer of complexity to sharpshooting, and she’s keen to further her budding skills. Her acceptance of the invite appears to please Teep.

Besides, she’s yet to grow accustomed to her weapon, eager for the upcoming practice. Teep had never specified either when she should hand over the money.

It becomes her favourite sniper rifle.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Lomadia: Before you ask, I found these goggles and fixed them up.

HybridPanda: Oh. Uh...okay? That’s freaky, how’d she know I was gonna ask her about them?

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Life with Saberial has its ups and downs. Panda drops by when Teep least expects it; the Caustic Caverns has no shortage of hiding spaces, which Teep employs to their fullest ability. Saberial and Zoeya get creative with distractions. Food’s a major one.

Teep’s forgotten that Panda’s giant appetite’s masked by their height and unassuming appearance. 

Teep generally sneaks off to hang out with Lomadia and Nilesy. Lomadia’s lessons are progressing at Digistruct Peak. It’s not often that they get to look forward to something.

“Hey, Teep.” Saberial calls them over. Zoeya’s busy with the skag pups, tagging them on their color coded collars. Teep kneels next to Saberial. A skag pup bumps Teep’s leg, smelling food on them. “I need some help.”

“With what?” Without turning from her, Teep picks up the skag pup by the scruff of the neck to drop it into the pen next to them. The skag pup whines, pink tongue lolling out from between its triple jaws.

“I accidentally accepted two jobs, and I can’t be in two places at once!” Saberial hisses, watching Zoeya play with the skags. The one bothering Teep lopes off to join its siblings.

“You’re doing jobs behind Zoeya’s back?” Teep drops a rubber ball into the pen. It rolls into the corner.

“You are too! Look, one of them’s for Minty! And the other one’s for Martyn!” Saberial explains.

“...How the fuck did you end up doing that?” Teep’s silent laughing annoys her.

“Shut up, I felt bad about turning them both down!” Saberial finishes rigging the camera, carrying it to the wall away from the playpen.

“So, you need my help.” Teep follows her. They’ve shown her everything they know (so she can impress Zoeya with how fast she learns), so she appreciates this extra bit of help that’s beyond their current duties.

“Please, please help me.” Saberial’s close to offering to buy Teep ammo for the next month or so. “I’ll owe you!”

“Alright.” Teep accepts. “What does it involve?”

“You’d like it, it involves…” Saberial mentally cheers. Nothing could go wrong! “First, we got to cover for the hotpot night. You think Ravs will help? Maybe talk to him…”

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Xephos: Thanks for the leftovers! Honeydew, say thanks.

Honeydew: Thank. Burp, excuse me!

Xephos: That’ll do.

Ravs: You’re welcome!

Parvis: Later, Ravs! Hey, how am I gotta get Sparkles home?

Nilesy: I drive, you and Lomadia can carry him into the back?

Parvis: Hold up, lemme give him a wedgie, he always does that to me if I pass out from a food coma.

Lalnable: Parvis, I need a lift back to the clinic.

Parvis: Alright, alright, keep your pants on!

Lomadia: That’s a beautiful wedgie. 

Sparkles: No, not the pickles, with the mustard…

Rythian: Sorry that Lalna didn’t turn up.

Ravs: Oh, it’s fine. There’s always next time.

Rythian: I don’t know what’s up with him lately.

Ravs: There’s always next week, if he feels like showing up then.

Rythian: I’ll ask him when I see him.

Ravs: Of course. Good night, Rythian, unless you’d like to spend the night with me?

Rythian: ...Bye!

Turpster: Leftover bread’s going to the couple with the baby!

Sereno: Hey Turps, I’m crashing at your place tonight!

Turpster: I haven’t forgotten!

Ravs: Zoeya! Why’re you still in the kitchen? If you want some soup, I think I still got a bowl left.

Zoeya: I’m not hungry. Ravs, I thought the two would show up by now.

Ravs: Zoeya, I’m sure she and Teep just got lost.

Zoeya: Teep never gets lost!

Ravs: They do if you tell them to.

Zoeya: That’s not funny.

Ravs: I’m sorry. Maybe they forgot.

Zoeya: They wouldn’t forget either! You’re important to Teep, and Teep wouldn’t miss hotpot with you for anything! And Saberial loves hotpot!

Ravs: It’s just hotpot, nothing important. Besides, Teep never eats it, they just like the company I keep.

Zoeya: It is important! So why didn’t they go? Where did they go instead?

Ravs: Teep and Saberial wouldn’t do anything stupid.

Zoeya: But what if they did, this time?

Ravs: I can’t personally speak since I’m not the two, but I’m sure they had a perfectly good reason for it.

Zoeya: They’d better.

Ravs: Hey, don’t cry. You can stay here if you need to.

Zoeya: No, it’s fine, it’s no trouble.

Ravs: At least let me walk you back down.

Zoeya: Thanks.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Saberial’s ship descends into Caustic Caverns until it lands on the roof of the Dahl building. Saberial locks the ship once she and Teep are back inside. She slings an arm over their shoulders, fistbumping them.

“I can’t believe we pulled that off! That was one of the best explosions I’ve ever seen!” She boasts. “We make a great team. I should have asked for your help ages ago!” Teep stays silent, bowing so that her arm slides off their form. They move down the corridor, back to their room. “Remember, don’t tell her…”

The light’s on in the kitchen. Saberial moves to turn it off. She doesn’t see her sitting at the table until she speaks. “Tell me what?” Zoeya’s deathly calm voice cuts through the room. 

Saberial jerks back, suppressing a curse. “Zoeya! Why’re you still up?”

Zoeya’s hands push off the blanket around her legs. “I’m not stupid, Saberial.” Puffy red eyes regard Saberial with hurt.

“You’re not stupid.” Saberial moves until she’s sitting too. She doesn’t have a plan for explaining herself, hoping that Zoeya wouldn’t leave the caverns for any reason (citing a backlog of sample cataloguing to do, and wanting a quiet evening alone).

“You said you were going up to Ravs’ place for hotpot,” Zoeya recalls.

“We did–” Saberial tries to correct. Or rather, they  _ were _ going to, but the jobs had run longer than expected.

“No, you didn’t!” Zoeya’s close to tears, her voice snapping. “You forgot your vest so I brought it up, and you and Teep weren’t there! Ravs said you hadn’t arrived yet, so I waited, waited and waited!” She swallows, shoulders hunching. “Saberial, you  _ lied _ to me.”

“I’m sorry–” The placating apology fails.

“Sorry for lying, or sorry for ditching?” Zoeya shakes her head. “Or sorry to be caught? I heard you bragging in the hallway!”

“I wasn’t bragging about lying to you!” Saberial hadn’t intended it to be a brag of any kind. Her temper doesn’t like Zoeya throwing her words back into her face.

“Then what were you bragging about?” Zoeya accuses.

“I lied because I didn’t want you to worry!” Saberial snaps. If Zoeya wanted the truth, then there it is.

“I worried anyway!” Zoeya sniffs, angrily wiping her face with her hand. “You were gone for five hours, Saberial!  _ Five _ hours!”

“If you’d just stayed in the Caverns, then you wouldn’t have worried!”

“I worried that you’d get cold, worried that maybe you did get lost, then worried that you were hurt or something! The worrying led to more worrying!”

“I’m the best at what I do! You worry too much!”

“I worry because I care!”

“I didn’t ask you to care!” Saberial grits her teeth, glaring at Zoeya. Zoeya glares back just as fiercely.

“Saberial, I care because I like you, a lot, and I can’t stop caring, but okay, I’ll stop caring.” Zoeya stands up, her chair falling backwards. It hits the floor, taking the blanket on her lap with it. She runs down the hall, knocking on a certain door. The room she shares with Saberial’s not what she needs. “Teep! Answer the door!” 

Teep opens their door. She pushes past them, curling up on their neatly made bed, sobbing. Teep glances at her, then at the door. They wedge an ammo crate against the door to keep it open, slipping into the kitchen.

“She found out,” Saberial whispers, sniffling. “Are you gonna say ‘I told you so’ and laugh?” They shake their head. “You should probably go to her. She really needs someone right now who’s not me.”

Teep tears a box of tissue apart for her, leaving it on the table before going back to Zoeya. She hasn’t moved from the bed, still crying.

She looks up when Teep nudges the ammo box so that the door closes. They sit on the edge of the bed, keeping their distance. “Go away!”

> cant just locked myself in here with you

Zoeya tries the door, shaking it. It’s really locked; how Teep managed to do so is beyond her. She sinks onto the bed again, refusing to look at them. 

She’s never argued with Saberial like that before, preferring to poke fun at each other, never stooping to ripping each other’s flaws apart until it’s gone too far. Remembering her own part in the argument makes her heart shrivel, shrinking inside her chest so that her chest feels too large and empty.

“You lied to me too.” Keeping her gaze on the floor, Zoeya knows that Teep had a role too, by joining Saberial.

> yeah i did

“Why did you lie to me?” She’d intended it to be a hard question. Teep answers almost immediately without signing.

> she asked me to

“You could have not lied!” Zoeya rounds on them. “You could have told me the truth!”

> i wanted to but she asked me not to

“Why’re you taking her side?”

> there arent any sides to this

“There is! There’s the side which lies, and the side that doesn’t!” She knows she’s not making much sense at the moment but that’s how her brain’s currently processing the hurt. “You lie to everyone, Teep!”

Teep doesn’t react. She  _ hates _ that, how they take everything into stride, how there’s no outward, obvious sign of what they’re feeling on their sleeve, their face, even their words just didn’t have any markers to indicate emotion. 

She’s surprised when two messages appear in her HUD.

> everybody lies

> what lies have you been telling yourself lately

See, they don’t even have to  _ speak _ to do any damage. She doesn’t need their brand of sarcasm right now. Zoeya hurls a pillow at Teep. They don’t block it. It hits them in the face. Teep retrieves it, sliding it back across the bed towards her. That’s more infuriating than it should be, her temper flaring.

“Since you’re so good at taking orders, I order you to leave me alone, you  _ emotionless, lying butt!” _

She hears Teep stand, tensing up when she feels them looming over her. A blanket falls on her. Teep turns, leaving the room. They had a key the entire time. The door closes. Their steps fade after a few moments.

Zoeya stays in the bed, making herself miserable until she falls asleep from emotional exhaustion. Saberial doesn’t use their shared room until three hours later. Zoeya knows, because she wakes up briefly, wondering where Saberial is and why she isn’t in the bed next to her, then remembers exactly why.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

HybridPanda: Yo, what’s wrong? You don’t usually ECHO me so late.

Saberial: Can we talk? It’s about my girlfriend and I.

HybridPanda: Lemme get comfy. Alright, talk.

Saberial: So, Zoeya found out I lied to her about going to hotpot.

HybridPanda: You had hotpot! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have covered for you!

Saberial: I didn’t go. I went to do those jobs Minty and Martyn sent to me.

HybridPanda: For real? I would have helped you.

Saberial: You’ve got ten bounties to chase up already. I didn’t want to bother you.

HybridPanda: Ten bounties is too easy. But your girlfriend. She wasn’t too happy?

Saberial: I made her cry and have an anxiety attack.

HybridPanda: I used to get those all the time when I was in hospital. Those were the fucking worst.

Saberial: Look, I was only gone for five hours! Five hours isn’t anything on Pandora!

HybridPanda: Sis, you gotta remember that she’s not used to waiting for five hours. Remember, you’re dating a civvie.

Saberial: She said she didn’t have any problems with me being a merc!

HybridPanda: Maybe this isn’t about you being a merc.

Saberial: No, you’re right. I’m too used to people ditching me because I’m one.

HybridPanda: Why did she get upset?

Saberial: I went on a job and didn’t tell her?

HybridPanda: What happened?

Saberial: Well, I told Ravs to cover for me.

HybridPanda: Then how did she find out?

Saberial: I forgot my vest. She braved the caverns and brought it up to Ravs’ place. Ravs didn’t expect it either.

HybridPanda: Whatever happened to that other assistant? Aren’t they supposed to help?

Saberial: They uh, quit a few weeks ago. Personal problems.

HybridPanda: Oh, okay.

Saberial: But instead of coming back down to the caverns, she decided to be a  _ saint _ and wait for me to get there.

HybridPanda: And you never showed up.

Saberial: No! I was too busy on those jobs!

HybridPanda: You took two jobs by mistake, thought you’d be pro to get them done in time but failed, missed the hotpot you said you’d be at, and lied to your girlfriend who just wanted to help you.

Saberial: Yeah, that’s pretty much everything that happened.

HybridPanda: Piece it together, sis. Come on, you’re better at this than I am and I’m a dipshit about relationships.

Saberial: She’s mad because I  _ lied _ to her?

HybridPanda: I think so? Let me search. Okay, ‘I cheated on my partner and didn’t tell them until I got drunk and admitted it and now we’re not talking to each other’, I don’t think that’ll help.

Saberial: We’re not browsing agony columns to see if there’s a solution to my problem.

HybridPanda: ‘I lied to my girlfriend about something that’s trivial but she overreacted when she found out and now hates me, please help, I don’t want to lose her’ sounds like it could apply.

Saberial: Okay, what’s it say?

HybridPanda: Talk to her.

Saberial: ...That’s it?

HybridPanda: That’s it. Well, okay, it also says you should admit to fucking up, she fucked up, you both fucked up, so maybe you should think about talking about it. This isn’t very helpful. You, article, get a one star review.

Saberial: What if she doesn’t want to talk?

HybridPanda: Let’s try another search.

Saberial: Forget about it!

HybridPanda: Man, did she break up with you?

Saberial: She didn’t say she broke up with me, that’s the thing.

HybridPanda: So, you’re still together?

Saberial: I think so.

HybridPanda: That’s good enough for me.

Saberial: Panda, you can’t visit my girlfriend to ask her to talk to me.

HybridPanda: Ah, now see, I normally would, if she’d broken up with you, but since you haven’t broken up with her yet, I can’t.

Saberial: Wait, have you been visiting all my exes after I broke up with them?

HybridPanda: Uh...no.

Saberial: Panda.

HybridPanda: Nope! Ask the chat, they’ll tell you I haven’t!

Saberial: I’ll do that later.

HybridPanda: What’re you going to do with Zoeya?

Saberial: I don’t know.

HybridPanda: Maybe you should try what the article said. If it works, I’ll fix the review to five stars.

Saberial: This is going to be so awkward, we have a trip planned to Wam Bam Island soon and I have to be there.

HybridPanda: You want me to come with you?

Saberial: No! It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.

HybridPanda: I’m coming over tomorrow.

Saberial: You don’t need to.

HybridPanda: I’m not failing you again.

Saberial: Alright.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

The Crooked Caber is manned by Nilesy when Ravs is busy. Turpster could say that Ravs is teaching Nilesy how to be asshole of the selective kind. That is, Nilesy treats everyone else cordially; he lacks the proper respect for Turpster.

Turpster gets his daily drink by having it slid across the counter, rather than handed. Once, his drink was waiting on the welcome mat. A loud complaint to Ravs fixed that. Nilesy’s keeps a poker face whenever Turpster steps in, never greeting him with a smile. He couldn’t give a single shit about Nilesy. Nilesy’s simply a sore loser over losing the meriff election.

Ravs is at the counter today. Ever since Turpster volunteered the information that’d secure another power core for Sanctuary Hole, Ravs’ attitude towards him’s reversed.

Being the meriff doesn’t have the same ring to it as ‘sheriff’, but Turpster will take what he can get. Thing is, being called the meriff shouldn’t make his palms sweat and his heart work a little faster and harder. 

Being called ‘Mister Meriff’ in a certain tone by Ravs definitely shouldn’t be making Turpster’s mind mull over every word, the implications or the voice behind it. It’s getting to him; nobody else had that kind of effect on Turpster.

He avoids Ravs for a week, winding up in a foul mood due to missing his daily dose of alcohol. Ravs has the balls to show up on his doorstep, grinning, with an insulated bowl of hot soup. Turpster begrudgingly accepts the soup, if only to get Ravs to leave quicksmart before Nilesy sees.

Nilesy’s disrespectful behaviour gets more obvious if he spots Ravs interacting with Turpster, like Turpster’s one of Ravs’ regulars (which he technically is, but he doesn’t want Nilesy to find any extra excuses to spit on him).

The soup’s nothing like Turpster’s ever had in his entire life. It warms him from head to toe, half a bowl filling him for a solid eight hours. He savours it as best he can, and is disappointed when it’s all gone.

Now he can’t help thinking of Ravs whenever he splits a can of soup open to reheat it; the goopy, chunky and disgusting liquids from the ration subscriptions don’t have shit on Ravs’ one. Ravs doesn’t ask for thanks. He probably doesn’t expect any, from Turpster.

The empty container sits in Turpster’s sad, empty cupboard, waiting to be returned to its rightful owner. He has no intention of giving it back; maybe he hopes Ravs will drop by to ask for it back–fat chance.

He sees Lalnable for a checkup as the hot flushes, heart palpitations and chest aches get worse. Lalnable deems him in suitable health, hinting that quitting drinking might help.

Turpster refuses. “A drink a day puts hair on my chest!”

Lalnable gives him the kind of look specially reserved for imbeciles. Turpster stands by what he said, but he gets his conclusion: the problem isn’t medical or physical, then.

A sheriff (former or not) is the master of his own mind. Turpster fortifies, prunes and maintains his thoughts like it’s a lush paradise attended to by guerilla gardeners. Work is all that occupies him, from dawn to dusk; and then he treks over to the bar to join Sereno for trivia night, or for a chat.

Sereno puffs on a cigar like he’s a man on a mission to produce as much smoke as a gun factory. Turpster once tried smoking and vomited due to nearly swallowing the damn thing. 

Smoking’s the worst habit, next to gambling. Sereno always asks and regardless of Turpster’s answer, ends up puffing away.

Turpster will allow him his vices. Sereno’s good company, if a little off his rocker. He’s prone to going off on tangents. He pays Turpster on time too. Their meetings are a combination of casual and business. Nobody cares what they’re talking about, in the bar when it’s happy social hour. It gets Turpster out of the house, at least. Sereno also keeps his mouth shut.

Working and drinking is Turpster’s life.

Martyn won’t let him back in Lynchwood, citing safety concerns. To save Turpster the trouble of getting his things, he’s shipped Turpster’s stuff over via express courier. Ravs saw the bus rolling over the bridge and immediately offered his services as a moving man.

Like an idiot, Turpster had said ‘yes’ before he could say ‘no’. He’s going to keep owing Ravs, which annoys him. Turpster’s back isn’t what it used to be, thanks to getting bucked off an armoured skag. Having another person around to move the heavier stuff’s appreciated. Also, he finally got to see Ravs in action. 

Turpster has to sit down and pretend he’s suffering from a bad case of heatstroke; Ravs insists that he ‘relax, sit and watch’, moving box after box into Turpster’s house. The man’s a fucking machine and a terror to behold, fast  _ and _ strong. All the rumours are real.

Staring at the sky and wondering if this is a new symptom, Turpster fans himself with his hat, extremely glad that he never challenged Ravs to a fistfight.

He gets the epiphany when waking up. He knows exactly what’s going on, like the answer’s always been there all along and he’s just had his eyes opened.

_ “I’M GAY!” _ Turpster screams, causing plaster dust to fall from his ceiling.

“Good for you man, me too!” A random citizen shouts.

Turpster doesn’t have any alcohol get smashed. He gets dressed and heads straight for the Crooked Caber. Nilesy’s nowhere in sight. Good, Turpster isn’t going to admit  _ anything _ to the little shit, or have him stick around in earshot.

“You’re here early!” Ravs observes when Turpster slides onto a stool. “How’re you?”

“I’m fine, and gimme the usual,” Turpster mumbles, letting his hat hide the way Ravs is smiling at him.

“Coming right up.” Ravs leaves the bottle on the counter. He turns, spotting Lomadia beckoning him by the stairs. “Excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Turpster wrestles the cap off, missing the last part. “Hey, I gotta tell you something. It’s really important.” Teep takes the seat next to him. Turpster knocks back a mouthful. His gut accepts the courage, sending it right to his head. “This isn’t easy for me to say, from one man to another. I like you, and I’d be honoured if you didn’t knock my teeth out for feeling this way about you.”

Turpster lifts his head, gut wrenching when he sees that Ravs isn’t behind the counter. 

> ;)

He nearly drops his drink when his HUD pings. “Not you, I, uh, I meant to say all that to Ravs!” Backpedaling complete, Turpster swallows, watching Teep.

> lets make a deal

“What kind of deal?’ Turpster licks his lips, casting a wary glance over to the stairs. Ravs is chatting to Lomadia, leaning on the banister. It shows off his chest and abs; plenty of people agree that it’s one of his best features. Turpster covertly agrees.

> i dont tell ravs you got a big fucking gay crush on him and you do whatever i tell you to

“That’s not worth my pride and dignity!”

> suit yourself

Teep pushes away from the counter, standing up. They turn in Ravs’ direction. Turpster nearly falls off his own stool from how fast he latches onto their arm. Their gaze lands on his offending arm. He releases them.

“Let’s negotiate,” He hisses.

> nope we have a deal now or i walk over there and tell him to his face

“...Deal,” Turpster mutters.

> excellent so ill see you at these coordinates at sunset 

\--

As the sun departs the sky, Turpster throws his shovel down, panting. His coat’s ruined, there’s mud stains that he’ll never wash off, his arms, hands, knees and back are killing him, and he’s positive that his beard’s  _ sunburned.  _

His tormentor's leaning against a rock. Their own shovel lacks the tough covering of dust and grit that Turpster’s shovel possesses. This was Teep’s idea, dragging him all the way to a random set of coordinates and telling to ‘start digging’.

“What’re we looking for?” He snaps, chugging from a canteen. Water dribbles into his beard. Nobody’s around to comment on his thirstiness.

“My buried cache of guns,” Teep signs, staying in the shade of the rocks.

“I thought you freelancers are supposed to remember where you buried them,” Turpster responds, envying their shade. He caps his water. 

Lynchwood’s got a rule against looting the dead. He wishes he could pull that same law on Teep. There’s plenty he misses about Lynchwood (like having a deputy looking up to him).

“I do. This isn’t the spot, I just wanted to make you pointlessly dig.”

He’s been digging a hole for  _ nothing _ . Turpster snatches his shovel up in one hand, hurling it at Teep. His moral compass revives briefly to scream at him before he smashes it again.

“I ain’t your fucking lackey!” He bellows.

Teep grabs the shovel by the handle, redirecting it into the ground with a scratchy thunk. They plant a boot on the metal edge, unfazed by his attempt to hurt them. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m not?” Turpster squints at them. This can’t be a sudden change of heart.

“No, you’re my bitch,” Teep signs.

“Fuck you!” Turpster stomps the ground, stalking off back to one of the Dust’s Fast Travel Stations. Teep lets him go, mildly regarding his tantrum.

He doesn’t give a shit if Teep makes him pay for his insubordination later, he just wants to go back home, wash his coat and lie down until his body stops hurting and a freelancer’s not fucking around with him.

\--

At nightfall, Turpster tosses and turns in bed. This isn’t his usual dream, where Ravs is treating him. Teep’s standing over him. The shovel passing in front of his face pats the newly formed topsoil keeping his body trapped. Turpster tries to shriek; his mouth’s buried too.

> there’s no lords on pandora

> i have buried your sins

Teep leaves him be, shovel bouncing on their shoulder as they stride down the hill.

He jerks awake, disturbed by a knocking downstairs. Unless there’s been a disturbance, nobody should be bothering him. Turpster throws on his hat and damp coat, fine with being seen in shorts and a sweat ridden singlet if it’s an emergency. He forgets his boots, hotfooting it across to his front door. 

It’s Teep. “Sup,” They sign. If there’s more, he misses it by slamming the door in their face.

Turpster waits for a minute for Teep to take a hint and leave. He opens the door again. Nope, they’re still there. He repeats the gesture; this time, Teep gets their hand and boot in the doorway, hanging on. They’re stronger than they look, fending off his attempt to squash them against the frame.

> dont make me hurt you

“Leave me alone!” He whines, finally allowing them into his house. Teep brushes themself off with a hand. They spawn a glass container with a lid.

> open this jar for me

Finally, a problem that’ll be no problem. Turpster seizes the jar, wrestling with the lid. The lid refuses to budge. He plants the jar between his body and arm, twisting his hand to get a solid grip.

Teep is also no help in this situation.

“I got it!” Turpster crows, the lid popping off. The jar slips in his hands, tilting.

A preserved, three month old stalker embryo flops onto the floor. A liquid smelling of old vomit leaks underneath it. Turpster screams as Teep retrieves it, pushing it back into the jar. They drop a tag into the remaining liquid, resealing the jar. 

Turpster sinks to his knees, trying not to cry and definitely, not about to go back to sleep soon.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

HybridPanda: I got popcorn, so move your ass.

Saberial: No, you move, I’m gay. 

HybridPanda: Oh no, the gay is too strong–fine.

Saberial: Heh.

HybridPanda: Uh, sis?

Saberial: Yes? What’s up, my lil sib?

HybridPanda: Why do you have a copy of the mixtape I made for Green, and their laptop?

Saberial: The laptop is Zoeya’s.

HybridPanda: I know the laptop is Zoeya’s. I asked her yesterday.

Saberial: Flax gave me the mixtape.

HybridPanda: I never gave Flax that mixtape! I gave it to Green after all of you left the chat being drunks who needed to sleep or pee! Why do you have it?

Saberial: Calm down. Maybe Green gave it to Flax.

HybridPanda: Let’s talk to Flax.

Pyrionflax: Evening, John, evening, FiZone. No gaming today?

Saberial: Evening, Flax. Nah, John and I were about to watch a movie.

Pyrionflax: I could hook you two up with Helios’ connection, it’s the fastest one within two thousand light years. They won’t mind a bit going to Pandora and Elpis through that mining rig.

Saberial: Thanks for the offer, but ours can deal. We also don’t want Helios to hit Turpster’s terrific town with a moonshot.

HybridPanda: Before you two get sidetracked, Flax, did Green give you this mixtape?

Pyrionflax: Yes and no.

HybridPanda: What does that mean?

Pyrionflax: It was their mixtape.

HybridPanda: You said it ‘was’ their mixtape.

Pyrionflax: They shared it with me before they went missing. I shared it with Fizone. It’s what Green would have wanted.

HybridPanda: There’s a lot of old songs on there that I really like, that I put on there.

Pyrionflax: We thought that was just Green’s music taste! It was yours all along!

HybridPanda: That should have been obvious!

Pyrionflax: Relax, I only shared it with FiZone, InTheLittleWood, Vertiigo, edgelord…okay, maybe I shared it with a few people. Sorry. We didn’t realise it was that embarra–

Saberial: What Flax means, is that that mixtape clearly meant a lot to you and Green.

HybridPanda: No, it’s fine. I made it while I was getting drunk, because I forgot to get them something for their birthday. I’m surprised Green didn’t get rid of it sooner for how bad it was.

Saberial: When Flax got it, the mixtape had over six thousand plays.

Pyrionflax: That’s a fucking lot of listens.

HybridPanda: …They liked it. They really did like it.

Saberial: You want a tissue?

HybridPanda: Nah, it’ll pass.

Pyrionflax: I can get rid of it, if it’s that personal.

HybridPanda: No, you can keep it. Green would have done the same thing, sharing it eventually to tease me.

Saberial: We’ll see you later, Flax. This movie’s not going to watch itself.

Pyrionflax: See you two. I’ll keep you updated.

Saberial: Hug?

HybridPanda: Yeah.

Saberial: Oof, I can’t pick you up anymore.

HybridPanda: I’m not five anymore!

Saberial: Here, you can have the mixtape back

HybridPanda: No, keep it. It’s all yours.

Saberial: Alright.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

The Wam Bam Island retreat is everything Turpster wanted in a beachside paradise. Now, if only it’s just him going. At the moment, he’s being accompanied by Saberial, Zoeya, Nilesy, Lomadia, and of fucking course, Teep.

Nilesy and Lomadia warmly meet the owner, Monkfish, by the carpark. The two are back on their second visit, judging by the three’s happy reunion. Turpster shifts by the technical. A bag flies into the back of the head. Fixing his hat, Turpster curses, rounding on Teep. It’d been a toolkit they’d thrown. He picks it up and throws it back into the technical, ditching Teep.

They’ve been bothering him for all manner of small jobs, from the trivial to the hair raising kind (such as wildlife management and specimen tagging). This leaves Turpster with less time for drinking, while putting Teep in an unnaturally good mood.

“Where’s the key to my room?” Turpster demands. Nilesy tilts his head. He’s holding the keys, of course; Monkfish has gone ahead to check that all their rooms are indeed, in excellent condition. If Turpster wanted to be exceptionally mean, he’d comment that this is the most amount of people Wam Bam Island’s seen in years.

“Sheriff, you’re sharing rooms,” Nilesy lightly says. A cat-like grin appears on his face. He turns to Teep, dropping a key with the number ‘3’ into their waiting hand. “With them!”

_ “What?” _ Turpster yelps. “With this asshole?”

> i never asked for this either

“Too bad,” Nilesy says, with a malicious smirk. Turpster tries to snatch another set of keys from him; he almost steps into Lomadia, who blinks at him. He hadn’t seen her, her presence almost unnoticeable.

“Sorry,” Turpster hastily apologises, backing to a safe distance. She just blinks at him. Turpster resists the urge to pull his hat down over his head, fearing that rakk of hers swooping down any second.

“If you have a problem sharing with the rooms, you can bring it up with Teep!” Nilesy points out, strutting down the path.

“No thanks,” Turpster says, glaring at Teep like it’s their fault.

Teep shrugs, spinning the key on their finger as they head off down the path after Nilesy. Saberial and Zoeya have gone on ahead. Turpster can’t help noting that while the two are getting along as they should, there’s tension that Turpster detects whenever nobody’s looking at the pair. His natural sheriff senses are on the case. Being nosy with group dynamic’s a part of being a good leader.

The hill’s no match for Turpster, or the pokey, wooden stairs slumped into the slope. Monkfish’s left the gate unlocked. Turpster notes which jacket pocket Teep tucks the room’s key into after they’ve used it.

From the outside, the place looks too small for a two bed setup. Theirs is painted a lilac shade, the purple appealing. It’s one of those seaside rooms, overlooking the pier. The pier snugly hugs the cliff, swaying gently with the moving tides, creaking as the tide shifts direction and height. Colored buoys bob widely, flashing in the sunlight.

Past the balcony, the ocean sparkles invitingly at Turpster. It also sends a little shiver of fear through him; he’s never been a strong swimmer, so any thought of going out there past knee deep water isn’t part of his vacation plan. Hitting up the mini bar, however, is on his to-do list.

The glimmers of reflecting light are hurting his eyeballs. Turpster turns his gaze upon the room. The room is just that: a room, intimate in its sizing and decor, the walls also painted in lilac. It contains a kitchen corner. He expects to see an obvious door leading to a bathroom, only he doesn’t.

His eyes travel to the transparent bit of glass rising from the floor that partitions the room. There’s a bit of metal protruding from the wall, in the shape of a shower head. Purple towels wait on the racks along the walls. The other corner of the room features a bathtub that looks out of place. It’s the same size as the lone bed.

And the  _ bed _ . The bed’s king-sized. Red, fake petals scatter across the white sheets in the shape of a flipping love heart. The meaning of the room slams into Turpster like a hideous wave of realisation.

“That little shit gave us a romanctic suite–” Turpster trips over thin air, awkwardly stumbling onto his feet. Teep removes their boot from the back of his heel. “I don’t feel that way about you!” What he’d first said to Teep makes him flush.

“It’s cheaper,” Teep observes. They seem amused by the situation, also surveying the room.

“I’m going to make him swap with us!”

“That’s if you can get close enough to him. I don’t think Lomadia likes you very much.” Teep’s by the bed, examining the petals. They lean over the bed, patting it down.

Turpster scowls. “I don’t want to share with you!”

“I don’t want to share with you either.”

“Well, it’s good you’re clear about that,” Turpster sarcastically says. “Oh– _ really?” _ Teep’s changed the petal formation from a heart to a dick.

“What? It’s what you like to eat.”

“I’ve never eaten dick in my entire life!” Turpster splutters. He stomps over, grabbing the sheet and giving it a good, hard yank. All the petals slide off, towards the window.

“We should duel for the bed,” Teep signs, watching the petals drift away with the wind.

“A duel?” Turpster puffs up. “A freelancer like you couldn’t win in a duel against me!”

Teep gestures ‘bring it’ with one hand.

\--

Beneath the window, Saberial finds Zoeya. Zoeya’s sitting on a bench, her sandaled feet cool against the sun warmed wood of the pier. Saberial looks imploringly at her, asking for permission to sit. Zoeya nods. Saberial does so.

The two talk in low voices, Zoeya eventually sighing. Saberial scratches the back of her head, sitting next to her. Their hands aren’t touching, yet.

Saberial dips her head, mumbling. Zoeya blinks. She smiles. The bench creaks as she shifts across the bench, her hand grasping Saberial’s. Saberial blinks. She blushes, entwining her fingers with Zoeya’s.

A storm of petals envelopes the pier. The two blink, tilting their heads back. One lands in Zoeya’s hair. Saberial reaches with a hand to brush it off; Zoeya does the same for her. The two laugh, a content Zoeya leaning against Saberial, watching the ocean with her.

\--

The first day’s spent hiking through the wilderness that forms the deeper regions of Wam Bam Island. Monkfish provides a casual warning about ‘not taking any responsibility for any harm and so forth if the party chooses to venture further in spite of the provided warning’, which is a little alarming to Turpster.

To Turpster’s dismay, they don’t try their hardest to stop Nilesy, Lomadia, Teep, Zoeya and Saberial from striding into the coastline’s lush jungle. Turpster follows. These people are citizens of Sanctuary Hole, so it’s his duty to protect and serve, even if he’s on vacation.

It doesn’t feel like a vacation. Teep forces him to fetch samples, containers, tools and whatever else Zoeya needs. Nilesy’s a cat tripping him up, getting in the way and making Turpster forget what Teep’s asked him for. The presence of Lomadia prevents Turpster from having words with Nilesy; Turpster might not know Lomadia as well but she’s a person he doesn’t think anybody wants to cross.

He finds out later that she’s Teep’s protege of sorts, which would explain there’s an uncanny degree of similarity between the two’s personalities and behaviour. She generally ignores him.

In comparison, Saberial and Zoeya are delightful company, thanking Turpster often and making sure that he’s hydrated and not at all being overworked like some sort of brainless lackey. He reassures them that he’s happy to help, while shooting an accusing look at Teep. Teep ignores the look, attending to Lomadia’s aim with her sniper rifle.

Also, everyone’s dressed for the island. Everyone but Teep and Lomadia. Turpster’s picked summer wear that he’d have worn on an off day back in Sanctuary Hole. Since he never has an off day, he hasn’t had the chance to debut the colourful, patterned shirt that Sereno left at his place. It has realistic cubes of dirt stitched all over it.

Nilesy’s eyes went as wide as his glasses when Turpster swaggered up to the gate. His eyes landed on Turpster’s hiking boots, going to the rolled, white socks and the pressed, khaki shorts, to the cowboy hat Turpster’s still donning, and finally, to the dirt shirt. He laughed and laughed, until he had to be escorted elsewhere by Lomadia.

Lomadia’s lips might have imperceptibly twitched when she passed Turpster. Saberial and Zoeya reassured Turpster that he’s dressed fine. Teep didn’t react. Of course, they never did.

The tropical varkids are a pain in the ass; Teep distracts, while Turpster wields a net to stun the small varkids. The other varkids morph. All the pulsating, orange pods bursting to reveal a wetter, larger and angrier adult varkid that crackles, oozes or fizzles like a Maliwan weapons production factory. 

Everyone has their hands full from that point on. Zoeya saves Turpster twice from being stung. That odd cryo grenade mod of hers stops a varkid cold in its tracks.

Saberial and Teep work as a team, coordinating the hunting of varkids. Nilesy and Zoeya drag downed specimens from the battle to be safely examined on the sidelines. Lomadia covers the latter two. Turpster’s pleasantly surprised at the teamwork, and how easily he fits into the scheme. 

It’s gruelling work, growing ickier as each varkid falls. He’ll hear the dying squeaking whenever he walks across the grass, the varkid fluids smelling like a fuel pump.

He wants to cry in relief when Zoeya pushes her plastic goggles up and announces that she’s done. The gang traipses back to the resort for lunch and a shower.

Back at the gate, Turpster bolts to claim the shower before Teep can. Teep strolls, hanging near the back. They’re not waiting outside when Turpster emerges from the room. The shield’s nice, but it doesn’t work on keeping his body from sweating up a disgusting storm.

Teep’s not at lunch either while everyone else is. Saberial grins when he inquires. This is a normal occurrence, on these trips. 

Zoeya finishes Saberial’s explanation, sharing her shaved ice dessert with Saberial. “They’ll be back!”

“Haven’t they eaten?” Turpster inquires. This earns a round of chuckles. He’s not sure if Teep’s human.

“You must be new here, because Teep doesn’t eat in front of other people!” Nilesy’s statement sounds like a mean mockery. 

Turpster flushes, digging into his ice cream (not the flavor that’s Pandora’s favourite). “I haven’t known them for very long!”

“Yeah, well, how’d you get to know them anyway?” Nilesy sips his curly strawed concoction which has a floating slice of fruit in it. He’s fiddling with fabric on the table, wrestling a needle in and out of it. It looks like a sock and a knitted blanket had a hideous love child, in Turpster’s opinion.

Before Turpster gets the chance to elaborate on how exactly he got bullied into becoming Teep’s minion, Teep arrives. Teep takes the chair next to Lomadia. 

“Where’d you go?” Lomadia asks. This is met with a shrug. She accepts the answer with a nod.

Turpster moves to order another ice cream at the food stand. Feeling generous, he asks, “Anybody want anything else?” He gets a ‘nah, too full’ from everyone, save for Lomadia, who wants a plate of fried thresher bits.

Monkfish is mysteriously there when he steps up to place the two orders. A round of giggles and an explosion of hysterical laughter causes Turpster to turn. around. 

Nilesy’s finished his greatest creation: a sock puppet of himself.

Lomadia has her eyes closed, her mouth set in a thin line. Saberial and Zoeya are losing it, Saberial’s fist pounds the table while Zoeya’s clutching her stomach. Teep isn’t reacting (as usual). Nilesy crosses his eyes, talking out of the corner of his mouth. The puppet yaps, red stitched mouth opening and closing.

“What is  _ that?” _ Turpster says, carrying his ice cream (housed in a crunchy cone this time).

“This, is Nilesy Junior, my only son,” Nilesy promptly informs him. Nilesy Junior bows before sneering at Turpster. His voice becomes high pitched as the puppet’s mouth moves. “Please, Monkfish, can I have some more ice cream?” 

Saberial and Zoeya gasp for air, using each other for support. Lomadia breathes, through her nose and bites her lower lip. Teep just leans back in their chair, posture bored.

Turpster grabs Nilesy Junior in one hand, lobbing them over the side of the railing. Junior plunges past the giant waterwheel, hitting the water.

“MY BEAUTIFUL BOY!” Nilesy screams. He drops to his knees in anguish, letting out a (fake) sob, mourning the sock puppet.

“That was uncalled for,” Lomadia states. Her eyes squint at Turpster. She leaves her chair to pat Nilesy on the back, murmuring comforting words to him. Nilesy lets out a theatrical, exaggerated sob.

“He was making fun of me!” Turpster retorts, licking his cone.

“Yeah, that was mean of you,” Saberial points out. Zoeya sighs in disapproval.

Turpster flinches when Teep moves past him to peer over the railing, almost as if they’re gauging the distance between them and the water. They take a few steps back from it. 

“Hey, you going to say anything–WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” He shrieks as Teep streaks past him. Their running start seamlessly transitions into a dive. It takes them over the railing.

Everyone, including Monkfish, races to the edge to see if Teep hits the water. A splash and a dot is all that exists of their landing. 

Monkfish worriedly grunts, scratching their head under their beanie. “Well, that’s the first time anyone’s ever dived off from this high.”

“Teep!” Saberial shouts. Her shout echoes all along the cliffs.

“They can’t hear you underwater!” Zoeya tugs on her hand. “Come on, we got to go down to the beach!”

Turpster’s the last to move, his ice cream dripping trails down his hand. He dumps it in the trash bin. Nilesy shoots him a hateful glare before sprinting down the stairs with the others. Monkfish permits them all to stampede through the staff’s path. They arrive on the beach.

“Lomadia, see if you can find them with your rakk!” Saberial orders. “Everyone, split up, the tides and currents should bring them back this way! Keep your ECHO device scanners on high!” Nobody contradicts her, following her orders.

Turpster’s stunned mind flashes through the possibility of having committed manslaughter under his name. He’ll be kicked out of Sanctuary Hole, homeless and scorned. Ravs is going to murder him. That’s if he never finds out about the election rigging, but Turpster’s role in the murder isn’t going to be easily ignored. Nothing’s stopping Nilesy from telling him his suspicions.

Nobody’ll ever trust Turpster again. He’s wasted his second chance on one moment of petty revenge.

He’s searching the pier. He could take his things and leave, while he can. Turpster leans on a sign. Teep jumped of their own will. He didn’t make them jump, so his role’s practically negligible, right? A dark, elongated shape moves under the pier.

It must be one of those reef apex predators, skulking for leftover bait or a dangling, unsuspecting leg to chomp on. Turpster moves back from the edge. Movement on his radar has him crouching on the wood, peering into the ocean. 

“Teep!” Face half submerged, Teep treads water beneath the pier. Turpster extends a hand to help. Teep doesn’t take it, ducking beneath the water. “Come back!” His shout’s ignored. Turpster fires a message to everyone on the local channel as he chases after Teep.

He makes it first to the beach, where the pier joins the sand. Figures in the distance are responding to his message. Turpster pants, sweat pouring down his face. Where the  _ fuck _ is Teep? They were swimming underneath the pier when he last saw them.

The current can’t have flung them out to the ocean that fast. Turpster spots a hint of green moving under the pier. Half a minute later, a bedraggled Teep wades out of the water, both hands pressed to their face. They turn their back on him.

A raised arm prevents Turpster from seeing their face. A flash of purple’s all that visible for a second, to his conscious mind. They quickly tug their soaked face wrappings and goggles back into place. Both boots sink into the sand as the determined tide tries to drag them back in. Teep keeps wading towards him until they’re standing in the shallows.

“We should fish on the other side, those giant fuckers know how to bite.” Teep fondly pats the recharging shield clipped to their belt. “Got wet from all those teeth.” If they’re making a joke, Turpster doesn’t get it.

“You’re alive!” Turpster shouts at them. “They’re alive!” He hollers, nearly hugging them, then thinks better of it, choosing to wave the others over.

Crashing into the water, Saberial tackles Teep. The two go down in a giant splash. Braced by one arm holding them upright, Teep shakes their head. She slaps them on the shoulder, laughing and crying. “Why did you do that, you–” She doesn’t finish her sentence, sobbing. Teep’s crushed against her body.

Nilesy exhibits no hesitation in joining the two. Despite Saberial hanging onto them, Teep raises a free hand. In it, is Nilesy Junior, bedraggled but still in one piece. Nilesy tenderly takes the sock puppet. “You jumped in to save my son, you bloody son of a gun!” He dogpiles Teep, having Nilesy Junior plant a kiss on their covered face.

Lomadia stomps after Nilesy. She crouches by Teep, hugging them tightly. She’s shorter than them, so they’re awkwardly leaning to one side, elbow deep in water and sand. Teep flounders in the surf, trapped by one sock puppet and three people’s affection.

“I’m sorry,” Turpster and Zoeya blurt. The two blink, staring at each other. Grins appear on sheepish faces.

“You first,” Turpster generously offers.

“No, no, I couldn’t possibly–” Zoeya responds.

“Yours is more important–”

“No, yours!”

“Go alphabetically!” Nilesy shouts.

“I’m sorry, to you and Nilesy, for throwing Nilesy Junior.” Turpster looks at the sand. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Nilesy stumbles to his feet. “Yes, son?” The socket puppet whispers into his ear, arms waving madly. Nilesy nods. “My son forgives you, and hopes you accepts this present in return.” He stands in front of Turpster, his hand clutching a fistful of something. Deeply touched, Turpster holds out an expectant hand. The fist dumps sand into one of his short pockets. “Pocket sand!” Nilesy cheerfully reveals.

Turpster can’t beat him into a pulp while everyone’s present, so he grits his teeth and pretends to like it. Nilesy flees to Lomadia’s side, snickering.

“Your turn,” Turpster says to Zoeya. “Come on, don’t ruin the mood,” He encouragingly adds at her hesitation.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you, with that stuff about taking orders,” Zoeya mumbles at Teep. “That was pretty mean of me. You couldn’t pick between Saberial and I, so you had to pick someone rather than not picking, but if you want to quit being my assistant and friend, then I get it–it was good, knowing you.”

She looks so small, standing on the beach with both hands wrinkling the beach towel tied around her waist, bare feet pointing inwards, genuinely distraught at losing Teep.

With effort, Teep extracts their arms from Lomadia and Saberial’s holds. They sign at Zoeya, “This is nothing compared to past shit, so it’ll take more than this to drive me away.” They pause to see if she understands. She nods, blinking in surprise. “I want to stay.” They lower their hands, letting their arms rest on top of their knees. A moment later, they awkwardly extend a hand. “Friends?”

As Zoeya comprehends their heartfelt gesture, her face changes from the verge of tears to a ebullient smile that has Saberial falling onto her ass in the water, clutching her chest and staring at Zoeya like she remembers why Zoeya first grabbed her attention. Saberial’s expression is tender, tender like her overflowing love for her.

Zoeya splashes towards Teep, her hand grabbing theirs. “Friends,” She warmly agrees. Teep fistbumps her hand.

Pretending that they’re not blubbering right that second, Monkfish holds up an ECHO device, grinning from ear to ear. “You all want a group picture? I was gonna ask earlier, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Yes!” Everyone but Teep emphatically choruses. Teep shrugs.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Saberial: Zoeya, can I sit down next to you?

Zoeya: Anybody can sit down, you don’t need to ask for permission.

Saberial: Um...if it’s okay, I want to talk. About that night.

Zoeya: Okay.

Saberial: It’s not okay, what I did.

Zoeya: ...Mm.

Saberial: I’m a mercenary, so sometimes...I have to do things that aren’t very pleasant. It makes it hard for me...to meet people. When I met you, I couldn’t believe that you thought my tattoo was genuinely cool.

Zoeya: It still is.

Saberial: I got it when I was younger and I kind of regret it, but if you think that it’s cool, then I think it’s cool too. 

Zoeya: Sorry for going offtopic.

Saberial: No, it’s my fault. And the other night.

Zoeya: I thought about it and I kind of overreacted.

Saberial: Maybe a teensy bit, but if I hadn’t lied to you like that, you wouldn’t have had that...attack?

Zoeya: I don’t have a problem with mercs doing their thing, since that’s what you’re good at and I’ll stick to my projects but I was so worried. I just thought about what would have happened if you didn’t come home, and what if my last words to you were ‘enjoy the hotpot’, because those aren’t terrific last words? I really...um. Gosh, I can’t say it. I’m blushing like mad!

Saberial: Ssh, you don’t have to say it now. It was horrible watching you cry. I didn’t know how to deal with it because I didn’t think you’d worry that much. I fucked up badly before I went.

Zoeya: We both hecked up.

Saberial: We did.

Zoeya: If...you were going to do any more jobs...will you tell me? I know I can’t call you while you’re on a job, but–

Saberial: Of course I can! That’s the least I can do.

Zoeya: Thank you.

Saberial: In return, you gotta tell me how you feel about stuff. You can’t keep it all bottled up. Turn that frown upside-down–

Zoeya: That’s so cheesy!

Saberial: Made you laugh, so we’re now good!

Zoeya: You nerd!

Saberial: Want to sit here and hold hands until we got to go hunting varkids?

Zoeya: I’d like that.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Turpster wakes up to the gentle patter of water. Saberial’s loaned a collapsible cot to him when she’d heard that he’d lost the duel for the bed. He kicks off the sheet, steering his body into a sitting position.

After the scene on the beach, the rest of the day had gone by without drama. Last night’s tedious events replay in his mind as everyone pitched in to help Zoeya classify and tag her newest samples. He’d cut stickers, so so many stickers, pasting them onto the right tubes and slides.

Devouring that much caffeine’s in one cycle’s knocked his senses past the arena. Most of them are still crawling back in. Somebody’s left the water on; Turpster heaves himself to the edge of the cot.

The shower’s on. Turpster jerks back, the cot’s frame rattling when his leg bumps it. That’s the sound he’s hearing. The shower didn’t have any external walls, it’s transparent glass so there’s nothing separating him from Teep, and Teep is using the shower; they must have stopped moving once they saw him rising.

“Fuck it, I’m going back to bed,” Turpster mumbles. He lets himself fall. A fake snore should convince Teep that he’s drifted off back to sleep.

He stays in the cot for about half an hour, snoring with every ten minutes. How long is Teep going to take? Turpster squirms with impatience, wanting to go and pee.

“Are you done yet?” He tentatively asks. No answer. No message pops up in his HUD. Turpster turns his head. At the first hint of skin, he’s going to flip to face the balcony. His head keeps turning, and he sits up, clenching his teeth.

A bucket’s been drilled and rigged with a hose to dangle from the shower head. Water’s pouring from holes in the bucket’s underside, mimicking the dreaded shower. The hose leads from a water tank. The tank’s down to half. 

Squinting at it, Turpster finds himself admiring the way the bucket’s tilted so that the water doesn’t run too fast or too slowly. The positioning stops the bucket from falling off the shower head. Teep’s calculated and set it up perfectly.

“What a waste of fucking water and time!” Turpster almost dismantles the rig but uses it instead for his own shower.

Dressed for the day, Turpster strides to the top of the island to accost Teep for their prank. They must have set it up several hours ago. It’s almost too much effort for a prank. It’s entirely in character, with what Turpster knows of their personality. Fine, he’s not going to mention it, because he’s the bigger man in this conflict.

Teep shows no signs of wanting to know about how he woke up. They probably don’t care, and Turpster doesn’t. He gets the day’s activities from Saberial, not trusting Nilesy or Teep (just in case they send him running to the wrong end of the island).

It’s all about fun and games. It’s really a vacation, the best vacation (and his time in Lynchwood’s jail doesn’t count) he’s taken so far. 

Turpster drops the sheriff posturing when it’s his turn to fish; Teep nearly bumps him into the water when going past with the bait bucket. Zoeya grabs the back of his shirt, stopping him from pitching headfirst into the water.

Nilesy tangles his line with Turpster’s. Teep supervises, not participating. They feed Lomadia’s rakk with fish carcasses. Turpster keeps far away from the animal; the thing looks like it’s a leathery blanket barely capable of flight. It’s also got a mean temper and a reputation for biting.

Sightseeing takes the gang around the island, led by Monkfish. Monkfish is armed with a harpoon gun. The aquarium's usual infestations stay behind the shield. They shake a fist at the dark things watching.

Zoeya stays behind with Teep when the others go to check out an old historical forge. “I’m not so good around fire,” Zoeya admits. “But don’t worry, I’ll stay here with Teep and we can read the guide together!”

Everyone reassures her that they’ll be back promptly, especially Saberial. Saberial brings back a tiny shell for her, which Zoeya carefully packs in a matchbox lined with torn newspaper.

It’s fun and games on the beach after sightseeing and brunch. Turpster splits a watermelon while blinded (and nearly drowns in the search for it, because Teep spins him far too fast and hard, and Nilesy yells out the wrong set of directions to everyone else’s).

Nobody can match Teep’s sharpshooting when Nilesy and Zoeya throw paper discs over the ocean. Turpster has the lowest score, but he takes the loss in stride (despite Nilesy’s constant snickering and terrible disc throws).

The highlight of the day’s sandcastle building. He and Lomadia build the best sandcastle, according to Monkfish’s judging. Lomadia isn't a bad partner for that contest, though she insists on putting one too many guards on the turrets. Her rakk has a fantastic time demolishing all the constructed sandcastles, thumping through the mess on folded wings, shrieking wildly the whole time.

Teep sits out on the sandcastle building, leaving a confident Saberial to fend for herself. Teep stays under an umbrella. To all intents and appearances, they look like they’re napping. After Turpster puts away the first place ribbon, he sneaks over to the beach chair Teep’s napping on. The ball rests on curled towels.

“Hey, you want to join in on the ball game?” Turpster invites.

“Pass,” Teep signs.

“That’s because you know that I’ll win anyway,” Turpster goads. 

“Nah, Saberial’ll kick your ass.” Teep doesn’t take the bait. Turpster wonders if Ravs were here, they’d be participating a lot more. 

Behind him, Nilesy chases down Lomadia’s rakk(trailing the net for the upcoming ball game). Zoeya and Saberial bury the posts with a sledgehammer, Saberial swinging it around like it weighs nothing. Zoeya holds the posts in place, admiring Saberial’s strength. Under the shade of another umbrella, Lomadia sips a smoothie, Nilesy’s borrowed slitted sunglasses pushed up to her forehead.

“Come on, we’re here at the beach having a great time and you’re just napping! Where’s the fun in that?” Turpster would hauled them up if he wasn’t so afraid of having his arm snapped. He moves past them to grab the ball. He pretends to stumble; his hand curls around metal and withdraws, from one of Teep’s outermost jacket pockets.

“This is my idea of a good time.” Teep sits up. They appear to give him a look of sorts. He slips the key into the pocket of his shorts, picking up the ball.

Turpster huffs. “Well, you’re missing out.” 

He joins Nilesy in the chase, eventually tackling the rakk and untangling the net from it. He gets a bite to the hand for his efforts but rakks aren’t toxic, according to Zoeya and Lomadia, so he doesn’t worry (much).

Five games ends in a draw. Teep’s not napping on their beach chair when Turpster sinks down onto one to cool down. He waves his hat in front of his face, panting. 

The sun’s high in the sky. Saberial and Zoeya have spread a towel on the sand and nicked an umbrella to provide shade. The two curl up beneath the shadow.

Nilesy and Lomadia explore the tide pools, clambering over rocks like two excited kids on an adventure of their own. When Turpster opens his eyes again, Teep’s dropping a beach towel over Saberial and Zoeya’s tangled legs.

They stride off, heading back to the pier. Turpster tips his hat over his eyes to enjoy the rest of the sun before it gets too hot out.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Turpster: This hot tub is mine, Nilesy. Go away!

Nilesy: I’m coming in!

Turpster: WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING–YOU CAN’T DO CANNONBALLS INTO A HOT TUB!

Nilesy: Not with that attitude.

Turpster: And I was having  _ such _ a good time until you showed up. Yuck, I got hot tub water in my mouth!

Nilesy: It’s good for you, this water! There’s no reason for you to  _ not _ have a good time now that I’m here. I’m the life of this party!

Turpster: It died when you walked in.

Nilesy: I’m offended!

Turpster: You offend yourself.

Nilesy: Are you just grumpy you got stuck chaperoning Saberial and Zoeya’s dinner date so you couldn’t get drunk at the mini bar?

Turpster: I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol on this trip, and I’m not planning to!

Nilesy: That wasn’t what you were doing earlier, checking out all the booze all stealth like.

Turpster: If you drank more, you’d have more hairs on your chest.

Nilesy: I have one hair! It’s right here, look, look.

Turpster: Get away from me, you’re too close.

Nilesy: Two guys, sitting in a hot tub not five feet apart, being gay.

Turpster: I’m not gay!

Nilesy: That’s not what your eyes say when you look at Ravs.

Turpster: Ha! Look at you, you can’t even come up with a good insult!

Nilesy: Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.

Turpster: It’s not a secret if it’s not true.

Nilesy: You keep telling yourself that,  _ Mister Meriff. _

Turpster: You shut your fucking–

HybridPanda: Is this tub full? Because I’m coming in!

Turpster: NO, DON’T!

Nilesy: JOIN US!

HybridPanda: I think I nailed that entrance perfectly.

Nilesy: You did! Great radius!

Turpster: Did not. Ugh, I got my hat wet.

HybridPanda: Why are you wearing a hat in the hot tub?

Turpster: Aah! Why do  _ you _ have your eyepatch off?

HybridPanda: So I can see, duh.

Turpster: You clearly didn’t fucking see the sign that says ‘no cannonballs’.

Nilesy: You mean the one I’m holding now?

Turpster: That’s vandalisation of property!

Nilesy: Take a chill pill, I’ll put it back before I leave.

HybridPanda: How’s the vacation so far, Nilesy?

Nilesy: Great! Except for Turpster, he’s a party pooper.

Turpster: I’m going to ignore that.

HybridPanda: You don’t have to share a hot tub with him if he’s shitting on the mood.

Turpster: Don’t talk about shitting while you’re in the hot tub.

HybridPanda:  _ Excreting, _ then.

Turpster: Stop using your fancy words to confuse me!

Nilesy: Heh. Hey, Panda, I like your eye.

HybridPanda: You want to see it up close?

Nilesy: You can take it out?

Turpster: No, I think it’s fine where it is.

HybridPanda: Hang on, just gotta disconnect it first. Here’s my eye!

Turpster: That’s disgusting!

Nilesy: Can I hold it?

HybridPanda: Yeah, that’s fine, I’ll just wash it in the hot tub when I get it back.

Turpster: I’m gonna leave now.

Nilesy: Hey Turpster.

Turpster: What?

Nilesy: Catch.

Turpster: NO.

HybridPanda: You dropped my eye. That’s okay, lemme just dive for it.

Turpster: You two are the worst hot tub buddies ever.

HybridPanda: Got it! Phew, it didn’t go too far. My sis’ll kill me if I lose this one so soon.

Turpster: What happened to your last one?

HybridPanda: Somebody punched me in the back of the head during a diner fight and sent it flying into a dumpster. Couldn’t find it.

Nilesy: How many eyes have you had?

HybridPanda: This one’s my ninth. Double digits next time!

Turpster: You're so proud.

HybridPanda: I’ll never beat my mom’s record. She’s lost twenty-five eyes to life.

Turpster: ...Shit.

Nilesy: Wow.

HybridPanda: Weren’t you leaving?

Turpster: Yeah, I was, thanks for reminding me.

Nilesy: Bye!

HybridPanda: Hey, wanna see if we can steam some buns in the hot tub?

Nilesy: You have a floating steam thing. That’s so  _ cool _ .

Turpster: I swear, people these days…

Nilesy: You staying?

HybridPanda: Naw, I’m just here to use the hot tub to stop my leg and back from dying and then, it’s back to the search for my number one bounty.

Nilesy: You work too hard.

HybridPanda: That’s the life of a bounty hunter, my dude.

Nilesy: You wanna share a bun?

Hybridpanda: I think they need a little longer.

Turpster: That’s really gay!

Nilesy: You’re gay!

Turpster: They’ve got their arm around you, that’s super gay!

Nilesy: YEAH IT IS, SO WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?

Turpster: ...You win.

Nilesy: Boom, I’m awesome.

HybridPanda: Now have a bun.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Turpster towels himself off as he heads back to his room. Nilesy and Panda continue to ruin hot tub etiquette. Turpster bids ‘evening’ to Lomadia (who’s staring down the moon from her balcony, with an expression of melancholy). He unlatches the gate, stepping up to the door. 

Pausing, Turpster frowns. He definitely did have the key to the room; he stole it off Teep during their nap. Or he thinks he did.

He can’t have  _ lost _ it. Patting down his pockets reveal his digistruct modules and nothing else. No key. Turpster swears. That’s when he spots the light underneath the gap in the door. Someone’s inside. He knocks.

“Oi! Teep! You in there?” He shouts. Nobody answers him. Turpster tries the door’s handle. It’s locked. Growling, he rattles it. “Teep!”

An hour ago, Teep had been about to knock on Saberial and Zoeya’s door when they’d heard ‘that’ giggle. Leaving the two be (and sensing that they won’t be needed), they’d returned to their room. 

The idea for a bath had arrived after cleaning up that mess from one of Monkfish’s previous lot of customers, a band of destructive Vault Hunters. They’d been relieved when Teep offered to remove the old, decaying human remains, given Monkfish’s squeamishness. Odd, for someone who gutted fish like they’re a seasoned master chef. Well, one of messes had been Teep’s fault. They hadn’t mentioned their involvement to Monkfish.

Teep ignores Turpster, sinking lower into the bath until their head’s submerged. Monkfish didn’t mind Teep changing the locks (doing them a small favor in the process). The room’s key is dangling from a wall hook. Turpster did steal the key (albeit extremely clumsily). Teep stole it back from his locker before Turpster went to use the hot tub.

Yelling from beneath the balcony’s pointless. The way that the buildings are set up on the cliff also renders climbing impossible. Turpster can’t break into the room without causing a scene either. Teep’s ECHO device is on mute.

Nobody’s going to interrupt tonight.

Two hours later, Turpster returns to the room. He rattles the handle, prepared to break down the door if Teep’s still inside. The door promptly swings wide open. The key’s in the lock. Turpster grabs it, stowing it in his inventory. The room’s dark and silent. The balcony’s curtains float in the breeze.

He spots a hooded figure wandering along the beach, close to the jungle. Reaching them takes ten minutes. Teep’s paused to stand at the edge of the water when Turpster jogs up to them.

“Did you enjoy your fucking bath?” Turpster pants, resisting the need to double over, a stitch attacking his side. Water laps at his boots. He gingerly moves onto drier sand.

“I did,” Teep immediately signs. Their shield’s repelling all and any waves trying to soak their own boots. They seem much more at ease.

“Why’d you lock me out of the room?”

“Did you want to see me naked?”

He splutters in a manner that’s undignified for any sheriff. “No!”

“Did you have fun hanging out with Nilesy?”

“Oh yes, he was having loads of fun with Panda!”

“Panda’s here?” Teep’s goggles flash in the moonlight when they turn to properly face him. Had Turpster been more observant, he’d say that he’d surprised Teep for once.

“Yeah! I thought you knew, Saberial found out that they’re here and wants them to come to dinner, but nooo, they’re going back to their bounty hunting.” Turpster knows he’s being too dramatic in his rendition of Saberial finding out her sibling’s here. “What, are they too  _ fancy _ to hang out with us?”

Turpster finds himself on his back in the sand. He blinks, staring at the night sky. The night sky and Elpis stares back. Teep hasn’t moved, going back to staring at the water. Dusting sand off, Turpster climbs to his feet, a little unnerved. He can’t have tripped.

“You hit me!” He accuses. “Or did something!”

“I didn’t, you just decided to black out for a bit,” Teep informs him. “Maybe this is why you shouldn’t drink.”

“So I had one bottle! You can’t judge someone for indulging their vices after two days of sobriety.” Turpster tries not to sound so defensive. Drinking’s not all he knows how to do.

“You tried to quit, and failed.”

“So sue me.” Turpster glares at the ocean. “I didn’t come on this trip to make friends or try to quit drinking.”

“But what if your sugar daddy wanted you to?”

Okay, Martyn had explained to him a bunch of terms after Turpster had walked in on Martyn's gaming. It’d been an accident; Turpster had been slightly buzzed and inquired about a number of terms people liked to throw around on the ECHOnet. 

Martyn had graciously explained each at great length, going into painful detail about until a horrified and blushing Turpster claimed ‘I’m going to bed now’ to escape.

For Turpster to remember that now is a feat, proving that his brain could cling to the most useless items (and while inebriated).

“I have a sugar daddy?” He definitely doesn’t know why he chooses to reveal this knowledge by opening his mouth.

“Who else do you think paying’s for this whole trip?”

“Nilesy,” is Turpster’s first wild, scowled guess. Teep gestures that he’s wrong with an amused shake of their head. “Lomadia!” Nope. “Zoeya!” Apparently not. “Saberial!” Okay, so not her. “Sereno!” Turpster’s shot down with every guess. “Martyn!” Not him either. At this rate, he’ll run out of names who’re acquaintances. “Ravs!”

That last name’s met with a derisively signed, “Definitely not.”

The rhythmic rush of waves fills in the concentrated silence coming from Turpster. He ends up screaming at Teep, “You’re  _ my _ sugar daddy?”

“That’s right.” Teep’s laughing, shoulders shaking. “My sugar babe finally figured it out. I’m so fucking proud.” They pretend to wipe a single tear from their face, flicking their hand after.

“I don’t believe this!” Turpster’s voice carries across the beach. Nobody’s around to witness him clutching his head in disbelief, almost knocking his hat off.

“Is everything alright here, or is Teep being a troll again?” A voice that Turpster didn’t want to hear (alright, maybe he does, but only when he’s not having an existential crisis on the nature of benefactors doubling as tormentors).

“Ravs,” Teep greets. “It’s about time you showed up.”

“Teep,” Ravs returns. “And  _ Mister Meriff. _ I take it that you two aren’t going for a romantic stroll on the beach?”

Turpster’s composure snaps back together like a rubber band freed from being stretched. “Evening! It’s nice out here, innit?”

“It’s very nice,” Ravs agrees, with a glace at his bare feet, the tied boots slung over his shoulder swinging against his arm. “Water’s a bit cold, though.” He smiles.

Surrounded by moonlight, his ruffled hair blowing in the ocean wind and his smile lighting up the whole beach, plus the bombshell of a revelation dropped a minute ago, proves too much for one Turpster.

Ravs blinks when Turpster despawns his hat to hurl himself into the surf. “I didn’t know he liked swimming at night.”

“Don’t drown, dinner’s soon,” Teep signs. Turpster ignores their extra message of ‘gay’ to dunk his head underwater, letting it cool him.

“He likes  _ lots _ of things,” Teep notes. Ravs shrugs. It’s probably another one of Teep’s cryptic observations that’ll take too much mental effort to crack.

Fifteen minutes later, Turpster’s dried himself off, changed clothes, and is seated at a table. He’s sitting between Ravs and Nilesy, Teep sitting on Ravs’ other side. Going counterclockwise after Teep, it’s Saberial, Zoeya, Lomadia, and finally, Nilesy.

Nilesy’s pretending that he had no involvement with the seating arrangements. Turpster knows otherwise; Nilesy had been hovering by the table and place cards before people arrived.

The dinner’s set on a wooden stage jutting from the cliff. Lit torches dance in their stands, providing a dim light. Elpis adds the rest.

Turpster’s no master at conversation. Despite that weakness, he makes an effort as part of the group. Nilesy hates his guts, there’s no use in dancing around that fact. That leaves Ravs. Ravs is curious about Turpster’s background. Similarly, Turpster dares to inquire about Ravs’ own turbulent history.

Surprising Ravs, Turpster tells him that he grew up offworld, moving to Pandora as part of a new assignment to try to bring order to the planet. He doesn’t mention that Hyperion's responsible for the move, knowing that Hyperion's name is mud with half the people at the table. Ravs is an attentive listener. He doesn’t make Turpster feel belittled or like shit for trying his best.

It’s gratifying. Turpster pokes at his food, blaming his current state on the bottle of booze he’d downed an hour ago. He shakes his head when Monkfish offers him and the others Pandoran wine, a potent, sweet-smelling variant of fermented fruit.

Ravs insists that Turpster tries a bit by saying that Wam Bam Island wine  _ must _ be sampled. With that kind of encouragement, Turpster concedes to half a glass. He ignores any judgement from Teep.

It  _ is _ good wine. Turpster compliments Ravs’ taste. Ravs laughs, accepting the flattery like he’s used to it. The conversation around the table’s stretches in five different directions as people hop in and out, abandoning topics only to dive back into it ten minutes later.

Turpster excuses himself to eat his food. It helps dampen the wine’s effect. Ravs lets him, turning to Teep. As Turpster spears his fish with a fork, he can’t help eavesdropping. Teep’s been unusually quiet. They haven’t signed and the local message channel’s empty.

They don’t drink or eat either, but do consent to Monkfish agreeing to bring food to their room later (by slipping the chef a large tip). 

Ravs nudges Teep with an elbow. “Don’t you want to know how Zylus is doing?”

“He’s talking to you now?” Teep signs. It’s their first sentence since they, Turpster and Ravs left the beach to get ready for dinner (with Ravs borrowing the two’s room to ‘freshen up’, making Turpster rush in changing clothes).

“We had a long chat before I went over to T-Bone Junction to help him babysit.” Ravs pauses to trade dishes with Nilesy, letting him have the fish for the skag steak. Nilesy tips all his thresher bits onto Lomadia’s plate (eliciting a grateful smile). “Teep, he’s finally forgiven me.” Ravs’ smile is bittersweet.

Turpster sips his wine to disguise his surprise. Nobody could hate Ravs. Ravs couldn’t do wrong. Past Turpster’s been too judgemental of him. The current Turpster is maybe infatuated, stuck with a crush that should have hit him back in his younger days.

With a wave of a napkin, Zoeya gets Turpster’s attention, pulling him into a conversation about how Lynchwood domesticates its skags. Turpster doesn’t want to join, owing to the conversation happening next to him. Zoeya looks expectant and well, he doesn’t want to disappoint one of the few people who haven’t picked on him. She listens too, which helps him feel comfortable and not awkward about his lack of developed social skills.

Teep and Ravs move onto other, less interesting matters. Copying Ravs and Nilesy’s earlier move, Turpster trades his dessert for Saberial’s. He gets a slice of chocolate cake so she can have the ice cream.

“I can’t stand that flavor of ice cream,” He admits. 

It’s a sore reminder of that one time he’d been forced to eat Zoeya’s abomination consisting of evil black sauce, rainbow food coloring, and an oildom of fried noodles topped with two scoops of fruity ice cream. 

Teep hadn’t tried it, citing ‘do it, or you’ll hurt her feelings  _ and _ mine’, which persuaded Turpster to pick up the fork. He’d lied about liking it to avoid crushing Zoeya’s feelings (and also, not die in his sleep). To this day, Turpster and his tastebuds still haven’t recovered from the harrowing experience.

“That’s okay, other people here are happy to trade,” Saberial cheerfully says, digging in with a spoon.

“I’d trade being able to eat ice cream for six months for the ability to cook,” Zoeya confesses. Saberial leans over to feed her a spoonful of ice cream. “But not today!”

“You can’t cook?” Lomadia raises an eyebrow. At this, Turpster coughs, into his hand. No, Zoeya can’t cook. “Then who’s been feeding you?”

“Oh, Ravs, Saberial, Nilesy...and it used to be Teep, back when Teep first started working for me!” Zoeya glances at Teep. Teep shrugs.

“Hang on,  _ you _ can cook?” Turpster stares at them. “You told me you can’t!” The whole table bursts into laughter.

“I can, just not around you,” Teep signs.

“Teep is a filthy, filthy liar.” Ravs tuts, chuckling. “They’re a clever one–oi, we’re not playing the knife game today, Teep.” Teep exaggerates a disappointed motion with their hand.

“Somebody had to feed Zoeya before she starved,” Teep signs. “I took pity on her and decided to reveal my greatest secret.”

“Hey, I can make toast! And canned spaghetti!” Zoeya objects. “And powdered soup!”

“Don’t live on those last two, I’ve tried it and it just doesn’t work,” Saberial adds. “But those three things don’t count as proper cooking.”

“It does!”

“Teep, maybe you should cook for me sometime,” Ravs flirts. “I’ve known, ever since you ran off to the moon with a certain someone.”

“I give you a knuckle sandwich,” Teep signs.

“...Minty?” Turpster guesses. He forgets to keep his mouth shut (thanks, wine), because Ravs slowly turns to him.

“You know Minty?”

“She, Martyn and I are sheriffs.” Turpster frowns.

“How’d you get to know her?” He has Ravs’ undivided attention and grin.

“Sheriffs have to check in on each other or else they send someone.” Turpster rolls his eyes. “Not that it works on her since she shoots anybody who’s sent to Concordia.”

“That sounds exactly like her.” Ravs’ grin is impossibly fond.

“It’s exactly what a former bandit would do,” Turpster sneers. Ravs raises an eyebrow. Turpster realises his mistake, adding hastily, “I mean, not all former bandits go around still shooting people. That would be incredibly stereotypical, because all’s I meant to say was that Minty’s a bad sheriff.”

“She doesn’t think much of you either,” Teep signs. “Says you can’t see past a bottle of booze.”

“And she can’t accept criticism,” Turpster argues. “So we’re both at fault here.”

“And Martyn?” Teep signs.

“Martyn’s a good lad. He’s just a bit naive about how real world sheriffing works.” Turpster would like to move the conversation on. “Pandora’ll knock some sense into him at some point.”

While he and Martyn have worked out their rough patches, Martyn still believes that the citizens come first, while Turpster maintains a sheriff needs to come first to look out for the people supporting them.

“He pulled my bounty, so I owe him one,” Ravs recalls. “That was nice of him. Didn’t say why either, except that there just needs to be a better review of who gets slapped with a bounty on Pandora.”

“That’s what Panda says too,” Saberial contributes. “They think that the system’s too black and white.”

“What, they think that these loose cannons should be allowed to run around without answering for their crimes?” Turpster sighs. “That defeats the purpose of bringing people in, and having the law!”

“Maybe the law’s too harsh to begin with,” Nilesy pipes up. “After all, the law ignores people who aren’t of any benefit to it.” He sniffs his wine, sipping it.

“The law’s there to help people.” Turpster pauses. “Or at least, that’s what I want to believe.”

“You don’t believe in the law?” Ravs peers at him. 

“But you’re a sheriff!” Zoeya stares at him, wide-eyed.

“I stopped believing in the law a long time ago.” His time in the Lynchwood jail hadn’t been spent hating Martyn. It’d left him time to think about why he’d been thrown in there.

“Then, what do you believe in?”

“Justice,” Turpster bites out. “Where the law fails, justice prevails.” A profound silence follows. 

“That sounds like it came from a cartoon,” Nilesy points out, snickering. Turpster wants to throw fish bones at him.

Zoeya cracks up first. “It really does!” When she laughs, Saberial joins in.

“It does not!” Turpster hotly retorts. “That’s just how I feel!”

“And if justice doesn’t prevail?” Teep signs.

“Then let the best shooter win,” Turpster quietly says. In his inventory, his pistol ‘Law’ rests. Martyn had returned it and the matching shield before blindfolding him. He hadn’t returned Turpster’s badge. He frowns. It’s not like Teep to ask such a question.

“Agreed,” They sign, and leave it at that.

“So you don’t think a former bandit should be a sheriff?” Ravs asks Turpster.

“I just think that it’s a bad idea,” Turpster defends. “That’s how the law’s corrupted, letting anybody becoming a sheriff. There’s no guarantee that they’ll be a good one.” He’s speaking from experience.

“Maybe that’s why there’s hardly any good sheriffs around.” Ravs chuckles. “Sanctuary Hole got lucky.” Turpster chuckles too, if only to play off his discomfort. “I’m luckier, to have met you…”

“Hey sheriff, are you forgetting to buy everyone drinks?” Nilesy’s voice cuts through the bliss that Turpster’s currently feeling. “Teep said that you were going to!”

“That’s right, booze is on me!” Turpster slaps his forehead with a palm, delighting Saberial and Ravs’ (and the way Ravs looks at him makes his heart flutter, because it can’t be indigestion). 

As everyone refills their glasses, he glares at Teep. Teep has their arms folded over their chest. Fine, keep pretending, he’ll have his revenge in time.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Xephos: Hey! 

Honeydew: Yeah, you!

Teep: …

Xephos: Did you enjoy your holiday?

Honeydew: I hope you did!

Teep: …

Xephos: You did? Well, that’s actually nice to hear.

Honeydew: I bet you’ve gotten lax, thinking that you’re the best around!

Teep: …

Honeydew: You don’t remember us?

Teep: …

Xephos: Ah, so you do. Remember your shield? I’m here for it. Yes, I want a rematch.

Teep: …

Honeydew: Don’t laugh! You’re laughing!

Teep: …

Xephos: I think we have a better chance this time. You don’t mind if I include Honeydew this time, do you?

Honeydew: It’s only fair! I didn’t get to show off last time.

Teep: …

Honeydew: You don’t mind? Really?

Teep: …

Xephos: What do you mean, it’s only fair, to make up for  _ my _ accuracy?

Honeydew: That’s it! I’m going to make you eat those words!

Teep: …

– / / SKIPPING AHEAD TO SECOND PART OF LOG. / / –

Xephos: Do you always sit on your opponents after you’re done with them?

Honeydew: I don’t believe it.  _ How _ ? We were so ready to fight you! We even asked Ravs for tips! And that rocket definitely did hit you! We saw it!

Teep: … 

Xephos: ...What? We should stop trying to challenge you? No, no, I want that shield, no matter what–

Teep: …

Xephos: Either we shape up or  _ die _ ? Who’s ‘she’ you’re talking about? And why doesn’t ‘she’ fuck around? What’s Rythian’s plan got to do with this? He doesn’t have a plan!

Honeydew: He hasn’t talked to us in weeks!

Teep: …

Xephos: Ah, not yet, that is. Still don’t know what you’re talking about.

Honeydew: I think we’re fine as we are. Well, when we’re not challenging you. You’re in a class of your own.

Teep: … 

Honeydew: Oi! We’re not bad shots! Right, Xephos?

Xephos: I do agree that Honeydew’s aim with the rocket launcher could use some work.

Honeydew: I try! And that’s what really matters.

Xephos: Hitting your target also matters.

Honeydew: I hit that rock, which was close enough to matter.

Xephos: Never mind.

Teep: …

Xephos: This is the code to Digistruct Peak, and Lomadia’s ECHO code.

Honeydew: Are you telling us to go train?

Teep: …

Honeydew: Why?

Teep: …

Honeydew: I can’t see what they’re signing, both my eyes have swollen shut.

Xephos: We need to do far better if we want to survive Pandora and ‘her’, is what they’re saying.

Honeydew: Oh, okay!

Xephos: Ah. Your hand is on my neck. Please don’t snap my neck.

Honeydew: Leave Xephos alone! I can still bite you! If I wasn’t feeling like all my bones are broken! Hang on Xephos, I’m coming! It’ll take me twenty mins to get to you, but I’m definitely coming! Use your voice to guide me!

Teep: …

Xephos: Alright. We won’t challenge you anymore.

Honeydew:  _ Xephos _ won’t challenge you anymore. Ouch, that’s a really pointy rock.

Teep: …

Honeydew: Okay,  _ we _ won’t challenge you anymore, loophole’s closed.

Teep: …

Xephos: Thanks...for sparing us.

Honeydew: This duel was supposed to be to the death. Why’d you change your mind? That’s good, because we don’t have any sweet loot on our bodies.

Teep: …

Honeydew: You threw something! What’d you throw? It sounds valuable from how it bounced off me!

Teep: …

Xephos: A shield. It’s a legendary! If you’d just kindly stop sitting on my back? So I can reach it?

Teep: …

Xephos: It’s a prize, for our pathetic try harding.

Honeydew: That’s not actually very funny, considering we went to so much effort to find and duel you. You’re a tough one to track.

Teep: …

Xephos: Oh no, no, I’ll keep it! I definitely do want it, it looks useful.

Honeydew: What about me?

Teep: … 

Honeydew: What rocket launcher? I don’t have this pearlescent you’re talking about, no.

Teep: …

Xephos: Well, my friend, looks like it’s back to Lalnable’s clinic.

Honeydew: If he asks, it wasn’t my fault this time.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Xephos’ new ECHO eyes take getting used to. Lalnable’s warned that their vision might be sensitive as the optic nerves recalibrate. So far, Xephos enjoys the ECHO eyes. There’d been no need to install a forehead port since it’s all integrated in the eyes as part of the improved package Pyrionflax had shipped down. That’d been nice. Lalnable hadn’t been equipped to do that kind of delicate, sustained surgery.

Honeydew spent the time waiting during the installation process pacing. Bored as well, Parvis invited him to play a board game. It’d taken two reminders from Lalnable for Parvis to abandon the game with Honeydew (who’d hidden one of the critical pieces in his beard; he’d returned it before leaving, though).

Taking advantage of the upgraded vision, Xephos uses it to see through the low lighting of the Crooked Caber. 

Attending trivia night’s not one of Xephos’ usual choices. That’d been Honeydew’s, upon getting an invitation from Parvis (seeing as the two had bonded so magnificently while Lalnable and Xephos had in turn, done so over technology).

Xephos is still smarting over their second loss to Teep. That’d been over a month ago. Honeydew’s quicker to forget the loss, taking to Digistruct Peak with curiosity. Lomadia’s overseen their training, providing commentary on the two’s progress through the course.

Ever the scientist with a love of hard data, Xephos had rigged theirs and Honeydew’s HUDs to collect observations over time. At the end of the sessions based on that, the improvements combined with the data’s obvious.

Honeydew no longers missed with the rocket launcher (not by much, because the blast radius covers for any marginal error in aim). Where Honeydew once cowered, he now marched into a gunfight without flinching. No more fumbling reloads, or wasting ammo, or getting grazed while shields are down. 

There’s a striking increase in efficiency, speed, endurance, mobility and experience where the two had struggled before, on and off missions.

Xephos’ own improvements are as marked as Honeydew’s. Without the overpowered mining laser serving as backup (because destroying Digistruct Peak’s bound to earn a death sentence on both their heads), Xephos was forced to focus on their own glaring deficiencies. 

The power fritzing at Digistruct Peak occasionally stranded Lomadia, Honeydew and Xephos. Faced with hours of boredom until the generators returned, Xephos brainstormed and tinkered. Honeydew trained with Lomadia, jogging and exercising (and at one point, doing aerobics; Xephos refrained from commenting to avoid hurting his feelings).

The power core driving Digistruct Peak’s become temperamental, whether from age or heavy use. Xephos constructed gear to avoid having to carry around the items for jumpstarting the generators. A measured zap from several stripped shock items melded together did the job.

Forgetting to take it off during a run granted Xephos the ability to take down enemy shields, when they’d waved a hand during a retreat from an enormous Loader. Honeydew’s boggling had given way to maniacal giggling. Xephos stared at their wired, sparking hand, the possibilities threading through their newly opened mind. 

Weeks of revision’s reduced the inelegant, clumsy gear to a nearly invisible rig. After a bit of thought, Xephos ends up storing it on their belt. The wires lead up under their shirt and coat sleeve to curl around fingers. They forget that it’s there unless they accidentally touch an object and get a jolt of static electricity for it.

Honeydew steadfastly turned down offers for help to upgrade his gear. Talk of tactics proved fine; Honeydew’s occasional ingenuity and natural urge to create chaos is a wild card, one that Xephos encourages and carefully cultivates. It balanced out their own reserved and cautious approach to a problem.

The two’s first job after returning to Sanctuary Hole had gone too well to the point of making Xephos and Honeydew suspicious. Trying not to let their newfound success get to their heads, the two had accepted another job. That one had too, been a breeze.

The natural noise and chaos of trivia night’s a distraction that Xephos appreciates. Perched on a stool boosted with cushions, Honeydew’s shouting answers (sometimes incorrect, rarely correct). Xephos watches Rythian talk with Ravs before teleporting upstairs. Rythian’s warning about quitting Vault Hunting’s never left Xephos’ mind.

Xephos and Honeydew are no closer to opening a Vault. In the two’s spare time, Xephos and Honeydew trawl for information. The two did travel to the Hyperion Info Stockade (with permission from the radio duo, FyreUK) beating down the Loader guarding it to access the information stored inside the stockade.

No new information about the Vaults existed; the previous access date was rather recent. Perhaps the last person to enter the stockade tampered with the information. 

There’s no point in visiting old Atlas sites that Hyperion raided. Anything of value’s bound to have been stolen, misplaced or buried to the point of obscurity. Xephos’ learned their lesson about chasing after mere rumours.

A series of loosely connected files they did pull pose potential. The common factor’s a Hyperion goon. A meeting with Hyperion’s R and D head may be useful. The problem’s that those kinds of people didn’t just meet with anybody. The name is familiar, and Xephos still remembers their offer from back in the day to hook Xephos up with a job. 

Xephos drafts a message, drinking the cider Ravs left on the table. Honeydew’s offended expression has Xephos putting away the keyboard to focus on the trivia.

“Sorry, habit,” Xephos mutters.

“You didn’t come here to work,” Honeydew points out. “You need some downtime too.” He looks like he’s about to start on Xephos building a workaholic tendency, which Xephos is naturally guilty of.

People move through the bar. Nilesy collects Honeydew’s empty tankard, leaving a refilled one behind. Honeydew tips him; Nilesy’s pleased by this, adding a cat shaped cookie to the table. Xephos and Honeydew share it.

Xephos’ ECHO eyes mark a figure of interest moving down the stairs from the exclusive second floor. Ravs did offer Xephos and Honeydew access, but Honeydew had turned it down before Xephos could say anything. Honeydew wanted to be in the thick of the crowd, missing being part of something bigger.

Checking that Honeydew’s engrossed, Xephos accesses the file. The ECHO eyes can compile a quick, dirty, and basic guide of anyone; anyone of renown or notice, that is. With the exception of a few (like Teep and Rythian), Xephos doesn’t miss much with a glance.

HybridPanda. They’re a bounty hunter ranking within the top ten after a brief hiatus some years ago. They’re the current record holder for consecutive non-lethal takedowns regarding bounties. Younger relative to one Saberial. The two frequently team up, though they’ve been known to operate solo.

Closing the file, Xephos watches as Panda obliterates someone’s kneecaps with a casual kick, leaving them incapacitated on the floor. Panda turns their head to scan the bar. Xephos meets their bored gaze for a split second. Panda heads upstairs carrying drinks. Xephos’ spine shivers; there’s no way that Panda could recognize Honeydew and Xephos.

The two’s own bounty is still outstanding but the amount offered for their capture is pitiful, compared to others. Xephos fends off the intrusive thoughts by gulping cider, trying to forget about it. Honeydew peers at him in concern, hailing Nilesy. Nilesy stops shoving a pile of letters into a fire topped barrel, zooming over.

Xephos doesn’t remember much between that and when the trivia night starts to end. As the crowd disperses and the bar empties, Honeydew’s hand finds their own, tugging Xephos into the middle of the people leaving. 

It’s almost urgent, the way his clammy hand clings to Xephos’ thinner and drier one. He must need to go pee, but there’s toilets in the bar, so why’s Honeydew going this way?

The radar blips. Someone’s following them.

Sanctuary Hole’s town is circular, orbiting a hole that leads to the Caustic Caverns. The furthest edge of town’s less populated and open. Expression grim, Honeydew lets go of Xephos’ hand, rounding to face a figure.

“What’d you want?” Honeydew demands, brandishing his gun. His gun’s an assault rifle, Vladof branded and a favourite. “I warn you, we’ve got friends in high places!”

Xephos’ wide eyes tag the figure standing several metres away. A shock of white hair stands out in the dark, as with the yellow trim of a jacket. Panda casually raises an eyebrow. “I want that shield of yours.”

“What shield?” Honeydew’s mouth puckers to form an understanding ‘o’. “That shield’s Xephos’, so you can’t have it!”

“It’s a tasty looking shield, and I haven’t been in a duel for ages.” Panda grins. 

The sleepy looking person who’d casually demolished someone’s kneecaps is gone, replaced by someone brimming with self-assuredness and a hardened edge that makes Xephos’ danger senses prickle. This is like challenging Teep because there’s no telling if Panda’s exactly the same, following the rules or breaking them whenever it’s convenient.

“Not to the death,” Xephos states, checking that their rig and guns are ready.

“Yeah, not to the death.” Honeydew’s grip on his gun tightens.

“That’s  _ boring,” _ Panda bluntly states, rolling their good eye. “Let’s make it more exciting. I see you two have a bounty, and if you lose, you come with me and forfeit that shield. If you win, I won’t bring you in and you can keep the shield. That way, everyone gets something out of it.”

The offer’s simple and sounds genuine. Xephos picks over it for any loopholes or traps. Honeydew looks at him. Xephos can already see him formulating an argument against a one on one duel.

“We’re doing this as a team,” Xephos says, to appease Honeydew.

“That exciting enough for you?” Pleased, Honeydew calls out. He’s picking up on Xephos’ strategy, proving that the two learned from their first and second fight with Teep.

“I like it!” Panda approves, nodding vigorously. “So, who do I hit to get this started?” The shotgun in Panda’s hand is tagged with orange; Xephos briefly wishes that it’s part of the offer to duel. Well, that’s fine; the legendary shield’s on the table as the current prize.

“Me,” Honeydew says, stepping forward to offer himself. He takes a deep breath. Panda strides to meet him. Honeydew raises a nervous fist. His fist bounces off their arm. Panda’s shield ripples to accept the blow. Panda’s own strike lands on Honeydew’s shoulder.

“Ow!” Honeydew gasps, a chunk of his shield dying.

“Bullshit, that didn’t even touch you!” Laughing, Panda lifts the shotgun and fires it. Honeydew yelps, diving to one side. The lethal spray of crosshatches misses, nearly hitting Xephos. Something breaks in the background.

Xephos opens fire with an SMG. Duelling out here won’t attract any attention, not unless a bunch of drunks stumble into the fray. Panda dodges, ducking behind a child’s slide. Xephos peers down the sights and aims for Panda’s exposed legs.

Panda’s already racing to another bit of cover, firing at Honeydew; they switch targets when Honeydew proves to be a difficult target to hit. Xephos copies them, finding cover behind a house in the middle of being constructed. 

It’s almost too dark to see what’s happening. Flashes of gunfire serving as giveaways to positions. Xephos’ ECHO eyes dip into night vision, giving a slight advantage. Honeydew’s relying on the gunfire to lead his shooting. Xephos doesn’t know if the two’s opponent’s using the same strategy. This is like a game of hide and go seek, except with bullets.

They reload the SMG, tracking Panda’s location. Panda’s moving, never staying put for long. Honeydew moves to flank Panda. Panda shoots at him, switching guns. White and blue fleck Honeydew’s cover. Xephos curses. Cryo’s rare on Pandora, so it hadn’t been part of the training regime on Digistruct Peak.

Honeydew gets that it’s not something to be hit by, staying hidden. Xephos sticks their head out and scores a direct hit on Panda; Panda grunts, switching their attention back to Xephos.

Xephos mostly suppresses a flinch as the cryo damage splatters the brick wall they’re hiding behind. They move to the left, staying low when the brick wall explodes.

They’re flung back, hitting the ground with a gasp. Bricks and plaster shower them. Their shield’s protection falters, recovering in a few seconds. Another grenade lands at Xephos’ feet. Xephos’ heart goes into overdrive, lunging with the rest of Xephos to safety.

“Honeydew! Friendly fire!” Xephos shouts, diving. Honeydew doesn’t answer. The grenade explodes underneath them. The blast lifts Xephos off their feet, throwing them into the side of the house. Xephos sympathises with the house’s current damaged state.

Still, their shield stays up. They don’t get what Honeydew’s trying to do, finding their badly scratched SMG to pick it up. When Xephos stumbles back onto the battlefield, Honeydew and Panda circle one another like stalkers fighting over territory, trading gunfire (and in the former’s case, grenades).

Honeydew’s reduced to hiding behind a stack of wood.  To their horror, Xephos spots that Honeydew’s right leg is encased in a block of ice. Stuck, Honeydew’s forced to wait until it thaws or it’s broken. Naturally, Panda’s keeping him busy, relentless in keeping up an assault with their assault rifle.

Honeydew’s cover is being demolished, one thick plank at a time. Soon it’ll be thin air between him and Panda. Xephos picks the only option left: attack.

They leave cover, sprinting into the open. The bizarre, suicidal setup begins to make sense. Honeydew’s plan was to distract Panda, pretend to eliminate Xephos and play bait, allowing their friend to sneak up on them.

Panda trades their cryo rifle for a Tediore pistol, firing a shot into Xephos’ eyes. Above the shit-eating grin on Panda’s face, Xephos sees a shining, blue cybernetic eye trained on them.

They  _ knew _ . Slag coats Xephos’ vision. The bullet encasing it knocks them in the head. Blinded and vulnerable, panic grips Xephos. Panda empties the rest of the pistol into Xephos’ chest. Affected by slag, the rounds tear through the shield, staggering Xephos back. They expect to hear reloading; the lobbed  _ Tediore _ pistol detonates against their aching sternum.

Knocked to their feet, Xephos shakes their head, slag dripping and flying to hit the ground. They can see Panda digistructing another copy of the Tediore pistol, twirling it to shoot Xephos. Honeydew’s digistructed the diamond shovel, slamming the hard edge into his trapped leg to try to free it. Icy chips melt on the ground.

Determined to hold Panda’s attention, Xephos feels for the gun still clutched in their slippery hands. Xephos aims it at Panda. Panda rolls, Xephos’ gunfire sweeping across the ground. Another slagged round blinds Xephos, snapping their head back. Little by little, their shield drains. One final shot does the trick.

The Black Hole shield detonates, unleashing a shock supernova coupled with a singularity effect. Panda’s body slams into Xephos’. Xephos grunts, shoving them off to pump bullets into them, hoping that the singularity stunned them; Panda’s punch cracks their nose.

The pain’s like tongs clamping around Xephos’ nose. The slag’s evaporated, staining their clothes where it didn’t. At least Xephos can mostly see now. The ECHO eyes highlight Panda’s frame, pointing out weak spots (a kneecap, spine, right wrist and). A red arrow marks Panda’s cybernetic eye. Panda punches Xephos again, like Xephos is a punching bag. Blood fills Xephos’ mouth, rich and dark, tasting of a hot, familiar metal. Flashbacks to the fight with Teep force Xephos’ determination to the front of their mind.

Xephos doesn’t know if shock’s compatible with slag, but goes for it. Lightning surges from their fingertips, leaping to Panda. Panda strains, fighting the electricity to try to reach Xephos, bare hands outstretched like they can reach Xephos’ neck.

Beyond the pile of wood, the ice cracks as a freed Honeydew rises. Armed with the diamond shovel, Honeydew rejoins the fight. He can’t sneak up on Panda. Panda’s eye swivels to the right. With Xephos trapping them, Panda can’t do much but watch, taking the hit to the head.

Honeydew opts for an old-fashioned bludgeoning, chipping at Panda’s shield with every swing. Drops of sweat fly from his head and arms, muscled form quivering from the effort of the concentrated assault.

Xephos is out of the fight with their shield going off, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t help Honeydew. The lightning’s going to die in three seconds. Panda’s shield drops to below a quarter. Straining, Xephos glances at Honeydew. They nod. Honeydew’s eyes flick back to Panda.

At the same time Xephos drops the lighting, Honeydew uppercuts Panda, the shovel’s edge clocking Panda underneath the chin. Panda goes down in a heap, hissing.

“Xephos!” Honeydew moves to help them up.

“Honeydew, focus!” Xephos shouts, noticing movement behind him. Their own loss doesn’t them because the fight’s not over  _ yet _ .

Panda’s climbed to their feet, their cybernetic eye blazing with a blue fire. “You tried to knock me out with a shovel!” They’re amused by it, far too amused, maniacal laughter filling the air. They despawn the Tediore pistol by their feet, digistructing another item: a monstrous chainsaw. “What’s mightier, the shovel or the chainsaw?”

Nothing’s prepared Honeydew for this. Honeydew  _ screams, _ turning tail with the shovel in hand. The chainsaw revs, blades whirring until it’s a maelstrom of gnashing, slicing metal. Panda chases Honeydew. Honeydew flees up the stairs of the in-progress house. Panda follows, wielding the chainsaw like it weighs virtually nothing.

Xephos watches the two dots on their radar dart madly within the tight confines of the house. They don’t need to exactly watch; listening to Honeydew’s continuous screaming lets them track him by sound alone. Panda’s never far behind.

They grab their dropped gun, despawning it. Honeydew’s fending for himself. Against Panda, he doesn’t have much hope and it doesn’t seem likely that Panda’ll stop once his shield drops.

Wiping the last of the slag from their eyes and face, Xephos’ eyes land on their recharged, legendary shield.

Honeydew emerges screaming from the house five minutes later. Panda’s gaining ground on him. Honeydew doubts that they can keep running. All that physical training’s paying off but he can’t run forever. Feeling like his lungs are a bunch of malleable balloons, Honeydew greedily gulps air, almost sobbing. He doesn’t even have enough air to scream for help and Xephos can’t do anything.

A flash of orange on the ground calls to his honed looting instincts. Honeydew spots Xephos hiding behind a barricade. They point to it, then at him, trying not to be too obvious about it. Hint taken, Honeydew brakes, stabbing the shovel into the ground and making a ninety degree turn. His feet lift off the ground, hitting it a second later. The momentum yanks him out of Panda’s path. Panda’s chainsaw cleaves the air he’d filled a second ago.

Tripping, Honeydew bellyslides towards the shield as Panda shortcuts, going straight for the kill. They bring the chainsaw down as Honeydew’s hand slaps down on the shield. The shield’s initial charge doesn’t stand up to the churning blades.

He shrieks, the chainsaw pressing into his back, waiting for the inevitable moment it touches bare, sunburned skin. He should have worn a shirt today, but a shirt probably wouldn’t have helped. It’d have been as much use as a life vest in a desert.

The shield reaches its final threshold, flashing once. It releases its shock nova, electrocuting whatever’s in its path. Fearing the worst, Honeydew forces his head to turn to see what’s over his shoulder. Panda’s eyes are screwed shut, the shock damage traveling to them via the chainsaw. Panda despawns the chainsaw, breaking the link. With gargantuan effort, Honeydew raises the shovel to point outwards. The shield’s singularity effect kicks in, dragging Panda closer. The shovel rams into their chest.

Coughing, Panda swears. Honeydew roars, rejuvenated by gaining a fighting chance, spittle flecking his unkempt beard. The shovel hits them in the face. Panda takes the hit, grunting. Their hands grab the handle on the downswing, expertly tugging it out of Honeydew’s hands.

“No! You’ve betrayed me, my shovel!” The end of Honeydew’s dismayed shout is cut short by Panda using the shovel to attack him, wielding it like a club. Forced to his knees, Honeydew whimpers.

“Go for the eye!” Xephos shouts, not caring if the hint’s against the rules.

Rallied by the shout, Honeydew snatches up a fragment of melting ice from the ground. When Panda furiously raises the shovel for one, final blow to destroy his shield, Honeydew surges up.

The ice stabs into Panda’s left eye. Panda’s entire body twitches. They scream, dropping the shovel. Honeydew hangs on, shoving the icicle deeper. The shard’s as long as his thumb, as pointed as a stinging cactus’ barb.

Worried about hitting the back of Panda’s head, Honeydew finds mercy, long forgotten and rusty from disuse. He lets go. Panda’s spewing venom, the kind of language that Honeydew’s hard pressed to use even when enraged beyond belief.

He detaches Panda’s shield from Panda’s belt.  “It’s over,” He whispers.

“Fine, you win,” Panda concedes, lifting their head to stare down Honeydew. Their hand finds the bit of ice wedged in the center. Grunting, they wrench it out, along with the eye. A black,empty pit’s exposed in their left eye.

Honeydew resembles a fish for a few seconds. Eyes rolling back to expose the whites of his own eyes, he faints. Xephos sprints over, feeling for Honeydew’s pulse. 

“He’s fine,” They conclude.

Panda turns their severed eyeball over in a palm, peering at it. “Well, that’s my ninth eye gone.” They grin. “You keep your shield  _ and _ get to stay free, but that was great! We should do that again.” Why are they talking about it like it was some sort of  _ game _ ? 

“Thanks, we’ll be on our way.” Xephos concentrates on moving Honeydew into the recovery position.

“Oh no, Panda, you  _ won’t.” _

Panda and Xephos simultaneously turn to see Saberial. Her thunderous expression wipes Panda’s grin off their face. Xephos feels their chest squeeze. She storms over to Panda.

“Uh...hi, sis,” Panda tries. “Look, it’s fine, I’m fine!”

“Look at you!” Saberial’s hand is pressing against their face, coming away in muck and blood. She spots Xephos trying to pocket the shield, and one prone Honeydew drooling into his beard. “You three were fighting over a  _ shield?” _

Xephos and Panda look to each other for help. “It wasn’t a duel to the death!” Xephos goes first. “We were very careful!”

Planting her hands on her hips, Saberial throws a pointed glance around the battlefield. “Not careful  _ enough.” _

“I’ll pay for the damages,” Panda offers. “Like usual.”

“Ravs and Turpster are insured because this sort of thing happens all the time, but that doesn’t excuse any of this.” Saberial tries to wipe Panda’s face. Panda slaps her hands away.

“I’m fine!” Panda snaps.

“How is losing an eye  _ ‘fine’, _ because you’ve only had that eye for less than three months.” Saberial might as well have shouted. “We’re going to Lalnable’s.”

_ “Fine,” _ Panda mutters sulkily, shoving their hands into their jacket pockets.

Saberial marches over Xephos. She thrusts her hand out. Xephos glances from her to the shield. When she narrows her eyes, they drop it into her hand. “This thing’s better off elsewhere.” 

Grunting, she pulls her arm back. The shield spins in the air like a flipped coin, dropping like a stone into the Caustic Caverns’ nearly bottomless depths. Panda and Xephos stare forlornly where it’d vanished. 

Dusting her hands off, Saberial hauls Honeydew into her arms like he’s an overgrown baby. Drool from his mouth drips onto his chest instead.

“Well, so much for that,” Xephos mutters, voice lowered so that she can’t hear them.

“Come on, you should get examined too,” She briskly says to Xephos. They start, pretending that they didn’t say anything. Not in any position to argue, Xephos scuttles after her and Panda. “I’m driving.”

Xephos and Panda share a mutual look of fear. 

From the roof of the Crooked Caber, Teep despawns their sniper rifle. The hatch to the attic of the Crooked Caber’s opened. Slipping back inside, Teep leaves the roof before Panda can spot them watching. While the duel hadn’t worked out the way they wanted it to, this outcome’s fine.

Minus a legendary shield, Teep got revenge for the forest fire that Xephos and Honeydew started. An idea of Panda’s combat abilities are a bonus. Mind, it’s still not going to change the future closing in on them.

Teep’s got a shield to find. They leave the Crooked Caber once Saberial’s trooped past with her unwilling companions, making the leap of faith into the caverns once the four are past the gates.

\--

A sheriff’s duty may or may not include the occasional babysitting. As it is, Turpster’s in charge of the babe for about two hours. Daisy’s napping, as well as Peculiar. Turpster’s house isn’t really equipped for babysitting but Clucky’s an easy baby to manage, what with being a newborn and all.

Saberial and Zoeya are on the case as assistant babysitters. Turpster doesn’t know much about babies, so he’s serving as the holder while Saberial and Zoeya figure out how to operate his microwave to brew some formula. Ravs left a list of tips for the three to following, being a self-proclaimed expert on babies.

It takes a village to raise a child, so Sanctuary Hole’s pitching in to help the couple, something that Peculiar and Daisy are immensely grateful for. Worried that the two would find issue with booze, Turpster’s locked all of it away in his basement. The key’s with Sereno.

Sereno should have been here but a new shipment of gun’s delaying him. Turpster doesn’t mind his friend’s absence. Besides, Saberial and Zoeya have got the situation under control.

Teep’s the problem. Turpster would have made a comment about Teep wanting to eat the baby (which seems like something that Parvis and his bloody lot would joke about, or worse, do) but Teep’s body language doesn’t radiate hunger. Teep’s body radiates tension. They’re like a pet who doesn’t know how to feel about a baby that their family brought home.

It’s not often that Turpster gets the upper hand. He steps over to Teep. “Wanna hold the baby?” He kindly offers, pretending that he doesn’t know that Teep’s  _ afraid _ of a newborn baby.

Teep keeps a metre between them and Turpster. If he moves, they move too. Turpster’s drunk on his newfound power, so he corners Teep. Teep’s right hand twitches. 

“Formula’s done!” Zoeya calls. Turpster pauses. The baby’s stirring, kicking the blanket, tiny face frowning. A mouth opens, preparing a cry. Turpster abandons the fear campaign, delivering the baby to Saberial.

Saberial’s unsure about how to hold the baby, so Turpster directs her, positioning her arms correctly. He steals a sideways glance at Teep. Teep relaxes when the baby’s nowhere near them.

“Teep, you don’t have to stay, we’re fine,” Zoeya dismisses, capping the bottle. Teep shakes their head. “We have five people here. Go rest!”

Turpster’s disappointed when Teep leaves before he can discover the extent of their fear. 

He gets another clue when Daisy (who hasn’t shed all her weight from her pregnancy yet) finding Teep in the Crooked Caber to ask them to thank Zoeya and Saberial on her behalf. She’s oblivious, chatting up a storm. Turpster’s here to collect his booze (after dropping in on Sereno) so he gets to watch.

They don’t like Daisy, their body rigid. Still, they nod, listening to her cheerful words. Content that her thanks will happen, Daisy serenely floats off (leaving her usual offering of freshly baked bread for Ravs’ regulars).

Turpster sidles up to them. They watch her until she’s left the bar. “I’ve figured out your weakness,” He stage whispers.

“What weakness?” Teep signs. “I have no weaknesses.”

“You’re afraid of  _ pregnant _ women.”

That earns a long stare before Teep silently cracks up. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re terrified! I’ll prove it!” Turpster whips out a calendar from his inventory to let the pages ruffle, showing off its contents. Finding it in Sereno’s unusual wares had been like striking gold. Upon seeing it, Teep folds their arms over their chest. “Here’s a gift as my thanks for the Wam Bam Island trip.”

Teep takes the calendar without looking at it. They turn to find Ravs, who’s rolling a corked barrel of booze from the back room. “Hey, Ravs,” They sign, gesturing.

“You called?” Ravs leaves the barrel with Nilesy (who struggles to keep it from rolling backwards) to stand by Teep.

“Present.” The calendar’s handed over to Ravs. Turpster opens his mouth to swear at the timing of Ravs’ appearance. “It’s from Turpster.”

“Well, actually–” Turpster starts to correct. Bad idea, abort, abort! He can’t snatch the calendar and run, so he’s forced to watch as Ravs flips through the calendar. He watches Ravs’ rugged face for a sign of an impending explosion.

> you keep your mouth shut if you don’t want me to tell ravs anything

“A calendar! It’s full of pregnant women posing, but I’m definitely not judging.” Ravs pockets the calendar, giving Turpster a grateful look. He sounds almost too appreciative. “Thank you, it’s quite the gift.”

“You’re welcome!” Turpster forces a smile onto his face, unsure what to make of this new knowledge that Ravs is apparently okay with such a bizarre present.

“You have great taste in calendars, so maybe I’ll let you pick out mine for the year after.” Ravs winks and moves to help Nilesy stop the barrel from knocking over a patron.

Turpster leaves before Teep can rub it in. Teep shakes their head, wondering if they’ll ever stop seeing an Opha superimposed on Daisy, and Rythian Junior on her child.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

HybridPanda: Hey, can you please take this letter to Teep?

Elora: Sure!

HybridPanda: Don’t lose it, it’s very important.

Elora: Oh, I never lose mail. MAIL IS MY LIFE!

HybridPanda: Thanks! Safe travels, courier. Heh, I’m just gonna wait for you to bring that tracker to that asshole and then I’ll be set.

– / / SKIPPING AHEAD TO SECOND PART OF LOG. / / –

Teep: …

Zoeya: You have mail! Goodness, you never get mail!

Teep: …

Zoeya: I hope it’s something nice!

Teep: …

Zoeya: Teep, if you can tag the rest of the wild skags and let them go, that’d be great! I got to compile some more footage and edit it!

Teep: …

Zoeya: There goes Polka. Did you tag Polka?

Teep: …

Zoeya: Excellent! This is a great opportunity to see if skags can find their natural way back to their old den as part of a migration study!

– / / SKIPPING AHEAD TO THIRD PART OF LOG. / / –

HybridPanda: It took me several months, but I finally found you, you little shit–why are you going underground. DON’T GO UNDERGROUND.

– / / SKIPPING AHEAD TO FOURTH PART OF LOG. / / –

HybridPanda: That wasn’t Teep, it was just a stupid skag which ate my tracker! I JUST FUCKING WASTED THREE MONTHS TRACKING NOTHING. Well played, Teep, well  _ fucking _ played.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

The sheriff’s office is a floor up from the jail and the public services room. Turpster spends the time monitoring Sanctuary Hole for trouble. Normally, he’d have hired someone but there’s no point. Anybody can walk in to see him right away, no appointment needed. On a slow day (and almost every day’s a slow day), Turpster’s left with more than enough free time than he knows what to do with.

He’s about to head off on the usual rounds of the town when a knock on the frame announces a visitor. Turpster tilts his hat back. He rises from his chair (glad that he didn’t get caught napping this time) to see who it is.

“How can I help–oh, it’s you,” Turpster’s voice changes from helpful to flat mid-sentence. “Bounty hunter.” The last time he’d met this person floats up, unbidden, from the rest of the memories he’d like to part with by tying it to train tracks and letting it get run over.

Panda smiles at him from the door. A plastic box’s tucked under one arm. “You remember me!” Without being invited in, they enter. “Then you should remember my sister?” They lick their fingers, scattering crumbs onto the floorboards.

“Your sister?” Turpster’s mind scrambles to find the right correction. His face stays neutral (at least sweeping will give him something to do later). “Saberial?”

“Yep.” Panda thrusts the container out to Turpster. The lid’s loose, a corner curling. “For you. She wanted to thank you for your help back at the Wam Bam thing.”

He gingerly tugs the lid back. It’s not one of Zoeya’s experiments, it’s cookies, the soft and chewy kind. Chocolate chips stud the surface of each cookie. Turpster’s mood lifts like he’s just won free booze for a year. “For me?” It’s then that he recalls Panda licking their fingers. “Hang on, there’s less cookies in here than there should be.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about, there’s still cookies in there.” Panda shrugs like it’s no big deal.

Turpster deadeyes Panda as he takes the container, properly snapping the lid shut. “You  _ ate _ some.”

“There were about twenty-four in there. I ate about eight. Don’t worry, that still leaves you sixteen to eat,” Panda explains like they’re describing a perfectly logical process.

“Those cookies were meant for me!”

“She didn’t tell me to not eat them!”

“Normally when someone gifts cookies, you don’t eat them during delivery!”

“I left you a lot!”

“Let’s not argue about cookies for the whole day,” Turpster says. As Panda said, there’s still cookies left. At this rate (with Daisy’s weekly cake raffle at Ravs’ bar and people constantly gifting him baked goods), Turpster’s waistline is going to need its own land by the end of the year.

“Yeah, you’re right. I got something else to talk to you about.” It’s disconcerting, how a grin simply vanishes like smoke caught in a breeze. “So, sheriff, how’s your bounty management?”

“I know  _ of _ bounties.” Turpster’s weak sense of danger twitches. “Sheriff Martyn manages the main database, so if you want specifics, talk to him.”

“I have. He told me that Teep’s been spotted in this area.” Panda casually examines a hand. Their hand bears all the marks of a hard life, nails trimmed short and roughened, a few cracked and split. Their knuckles are scratched to the bone. “I haven’t read any filed sightings from you.”

“Try asking Ravs, he was the last guy to run the place before me,” Turpster tries to deflect. “He knows all the bad characters in the area.”

“I did my homework. Turns out, Ravs is no sheriff, so there’s no info about him, and he’s not willing to talk. That all changed when  _ you _ got elected, though.” Panda’s tone stays civil. “Must be nice, knowing that Sanctuary Hole’s got you to make up for him.” Insulting Ravs (no matter Panda’s intention behind that statement) makes Turpster’s blood heat up.

“Are you threatening me?” Turpster straightens up, putting his back into it. He’s taller than Panda by a fair margin, matching Ravs. Alright, that’s an exaggeration, if Panda stopped slouching, they’d meet his eyes. They don’t need height to get their point across, letting their reputation speak for them.

“I’m not threatening you sheriff, I'm asking for your help.” Panda tugs back a jacket sleeve, the fabric being rolled back until their upper arm’s exposed.  _ “This _ is why it’s important.”

The stylized tattoo of a black and white fanged creature snarls at Turpster. Turpster might not be up to date on news past Elpis’ orbit but he knows that emblem anywhere. He should have known.

Panda hails from a mercenary clan dealing with all manner of jobs, from bounty hunting, bodyguard gigs and high profile missions handed down from a megacorporation’s elusive CEO. The ‘wet works people’ is the impressive nickname that Turpster’s world gave people of Panda and Saberial’s kind.

“If I do find Teep and bring them in, I’ll evenly split the cash with you.” Panda restores their sleeve. “Strangely, nobody seems interested in taking me up on my offer.”

“Dead or alive?” Turpster ends up asking.

“Doesn’t matter. The bounty didn’t specify, which is rare.” Panda’s searching gaze rests on him. “And extremely advantageous.”

This is his chance to get rid of Teep. Permanently. Turpster moves behind the desk, bringing up Martyn’s constantly updating list of bounties. He can’t find Teep on it. “Can’t find it on here. You got the file?”

Panda provides it, sending it to Turpster’s device. Turpster’s buying time to think, skimming the list of crimes. Teep’s not innocent, that’s for sure. Their last job dates back nearly a decade ago.

“They’re not dead,” Panda states.

“What makes you so sure?” Turpster reaches the end of the file. 

The list of confirmed kills spans several pages, along with notes from other sheriffs, Panda’s lengthy scribblings, witnesses (interviewed or dead), casualties, minor case details and damage dealt as a result. No personal details or prior history on Teep exists, except for their name and a bad security camera shot serving as their mugshot photo. It’s doubtful that ‘Teep’ is their real name.

“They killed a friend of mine, then scattered all their shit around Pandora to taunt me as part of some fucked up scavenger quest. All the clues point to Sanctuary Hole.” Panda’s face doesn’t twitch. They have their anger under control, which hints to Turpster that it’s deeper than that.

“It might be an imposter.” Turpster exits the file, his tone turning soft. “Teep might have died and somebody’s pretending to be them.”

“Can’t be.” Panda frowns like they’ve never considered this idea before. “I  _ know _ how Teep operates. They’re the type to fuck with people before going in for the kill.” The part about Teep enjoying mind games is true, in Turpster’s experience.

“The file’s old. Is it really worth it to your clan if you go back without Teep?”

“I asked for the case, so I can’t go back without them.” Panda’s good eye flashes with weariness, at a hunt that’s gone on for too long. “This is my last job. If I don’t bring them in, I’ll never get justice for my friend.”

“Were you and your friend close?” Turpster asks, gently.

It’s about half a minute before Panda speaks, in a voice so quiet that Turpster knows that they’ve never told anybody else this before. “They killed my best friend. Because of that, I ended up never meeting them.”

Panda’s staking everything on this last mission. And yet, to Turpster, something’s off. Frustratingly, he’s a piece of the puzzle, Panda’s another piece, and he doesn’t have enough to put it all together. Someone smarter than him’s deliberately constructed it to be this way, someone who’s been pulling the strings all along, manipulating people into place. He can’t explain this unshakeable feeling, a lot like his own stirrings for Ravs.

“I hope you deliver justice.” Turpster takes his hat off in a gesture of mourning. “For you and your friend.” He replaces his hat, genuinely sorry that he couldn’t provide the help Panda wants. “I can’t help you. Nobody’s seen Teep in the area for years, if Ravs hasn’t heard anything, and Ravs is the best informant this place has.”

“Thanks.” Panda smiles. “I thought it’d be worth asking you.” They turn, heading for the door, pausing. “Enjoy your cookies.” Their footsteps fade.

Turpster sinks into a chair to reflect on his executive decision. He lied. He lied to a renowned bounty hunter about their quarry, deliberately obstructed the law and he got away with it. Sweating, Turpster peels his hat off. The room’s too hot, too confined, as of that minute.

He munches on a cookie to soothe his frazzled nerves, attempting to persuade his guilt that he did the right thing, but he covered for a known killer. Minty and Martyn were right, he’s really slipped from the path of sheriffdom. He should turn in his badge.

A scuffle behind him has Turpster grabbing his pistol from his hip holster. “Who’s there?” A warning about breaking and entering sits on the tip of his tongue.

Teep’s leaning on the doorway that leads to his upstairs office. “You didn’t turn me in.”

“You’re not a bad person, from what I’ve seen, even if you did kill a bunch of people for cold hard cash.” Turpster’s fumbling explanation doesn’t satisfy himself either. “You might have changed since then.”

“I haven’t.” Teep’s bluntness is cold, sobering even though it consists of only two, signed words. Turpster’s gut bucks in fear.

“You going to kill me now?” Turpster keeps hold of the pistol. At least everyone will know that he died fighting.

“You’re hardly worth the effort,” Teep signs. “Couldn’t give me a proper challenge.”

“Did you really kill Panda’s best friend?”

Teep’s brief silence matches Panda’s in length. “I did.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“I see.” Turpster nods, as if to assure himself that Teep really doesn’t regret doing so. “Panda’ll be back.”

“Tell them the truth next time.”

“No.” Turpster twirls Law, tucking it back into its holster. After all this time, he still remembers how to do it. Teep watches him sit down. “You two should fight on your own terms and not on some washed up sheriff’s tip.”

“That’s generous of you.” The signing isn’t sarcastic. Perhaps Teep means it. He likes to think that they do, however offhandedly it comes off as.

“It’s the least I could do, for all you’ve done.” Turpster sighs. “I’ve fucked up too much, might as well go hard or go home.” Teep can shoot him if they want to for running his mouth, but he’s got something else he has to say while he can. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck.” Teep pushes off the doorway, to leave via the front door. Before leaving, they sign, “I need a bullet with my name on it.”

And Panda will be the one to deliver it.

Turpster doesn’t know how to respond to that. He reaches for the flask he keeps in reserve in a drawer, then thinks better of it. He’s got thinking to do. It’s no good if he’s drunk and loses the plot midway.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Zoeya: Saberial? Lalnable said you were around here.

Saberial: I’m here! In this room, just to your right. No, no, come back this way!

Zoeya: Found you! You’re it.

Saberial: Haha, too bad. Boop, you’re it. That werewolf slashed me up pretty good.

Zoeya: Will you become a werewolf too?

Saberial: I’ve talked to Hollie, who’s Minty’s medical help.

Zoeya: What’d she say?

Saberial: Werewolves aren’t contagious.

Zoeya: Oh.

Saberial: Sorry for spoiling your hope that I’d be your furry girlfriend.

Zoeya: Do you even know what that means?

Saberial: Maybe. Maybe not.

Zoeya: Never mind. Hey, you’re not wearing the vest I got for you.

Saberial: It got slashed up. Parvis is gonna fix it. Listen, I need to go and help Teep, Ravs and Rythian at Opportunity.

Zoeya: You said you weren’t going! You’re also too hurt!

Saberial: I said I wasn’t going  _ with _ them.

Zoeya:  _ Saberial. _

Saberial: Zoeya, puppy eyes aren’t going to work on me.

Zoeya: You can’t go alone.

Saberial: I got two great people who just got back from a job and are raring to go fight with me.

Zoeya: Who?

Saberial: Here they are!

Xephos: Saberial? We’re ready to go.

Honeydew: Let’s go and kick some rich people ass!

Zoeya: Listen, my girlfriend’s hurt, so you need to take care of her or I’ll cry loads.

Honeydew: We’ll watch her back. 

Xephos: You can count on us.

Saberial: See? Great people. Ssh, don’t cry. I’ll be back before you know it.

Zoeya: Be careful, okay?

Saberial: Babe, I’m always careful, and especially with you.

Honeydew: Um.

Xephos: We’ll wait outside until you’ve finished your PDA, shall we?

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Sjin: Bounty hunter! You’re back so soon!

HybridPanda: Here’s your one power core.

Sjin: Wonderful! How did its retrieval go?

HybridPanda: Pretty good. 

Sjin: Are the meddling trio dead?

HybridPanda: They’re dead.

Sjin: That’s very good to hear. Here’s both your payments. There’s an extra tip included.

HybridPanda: Thanks. Pleasure doing business with you.

Sjin: How’s your quest for finding Teep going?

HybridPanda: Fine.

Sjin: You don’t want help?

HybridPanda: I got it covered.

Sjin: But what if I told you the coordinates of where they were last spotted?

HybridPanda: I don’t want to owe you anything. Far as things go, this is  _ my _ hunt. You’ll stay out of it if you don’t want to be blacklisted by my clan as an interfering, corporate jackass.

Sjin: How rude! I just wanted to make things easier for you, but if you’re going to be that way, then forget about it.

HybridPanda: I don’t you need your help killing them, so if you’re done talking? Later.

Sjin: Hmph, If they weren’t so useful, they’d be dead by now. Good, the power core’s charged. Let’s go and plug it in and get this whole rig activated.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Turpster: What’s the meaning of this? Teep, you can’t do this!

Teep: …

Turpster: Are you sure?

Teep: …

Turpster: This isn’t what I meant when I offered to help Panda.

Teep: …

Turpster: When you put it that way,  _ fine _ .

Teep: …

Turpster: Anything else?

Teep: …

Turpster: You’re telling me that Ravs knew about my crush on him the  _ entire _ time?

Teep: …

Turpster: FUCK YOU!

Teep: …

Turpster: Of course he would, people crush on him  _ all _ the time! Stupid of me to think he wouldn’t notice…why are  _ you _ still here? Goodbye!

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Turpster: HybridPanda?

HybridPanda: Yeah?

Turpster: There’s a message that got left outside my office. It’s addressed to you.

HybridPanda: It says, ‘It was hilarious watching you run around like a headless rakk, but come to Lynchwood. Here’s a map and coordinates. The location’s circled so you can’t fucking get lost finding it. Let’s finish this.’ This is from Teep.

Turpster: Good luck. Sheriff Martyn’s expecting you.

HybridPanda: Thanks, sheriff.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (an eye for an eye makes one blind)
> 
> thank you to polishingopals for listening to all the thoughts i had on this fic, as well as teagstime, doublearrows and siins for their encouragement in getting this one out. this one’s over 56k words which is no easy feat to achieve.
> 
> this chapter turned out better than i’d ever expected, largely because i had a lot of these characters fleshed out, save for four: martyn, turpster, saberial and zoeya.
> 
> if you’re wondering why saberial and zoeya get along so well, it’s because they communicate to each other everything. the two have been through the dating experiences before, so they know how to navigate the many perils of relationships. their arcs will conclude in another fic and tlvh. that’s not to say that their relationship is without its ups and downs, as you read;  
> no couple’s ever truly perfect.
> 
> zoeya doesn’t have any problem with saberial being a mercenary! in fact, she appreciates it; saberial’s no stranger to danger and doesn’t run away screaming at zoeya’s love of wandering into the jaws of creatures. saberial’s need for excitement and a job well done’s satisfied by zoeya’s neverending stock of jobs. the two ground each other, saberial’s practicality and level head helps zoeya, while zoeya’s optimism and determination keep saberial going.
> 
> you never really see them apart. when they do split ways, zoeya defaults to anxiousness while saberial throws herself in her work. sadly, that’s the reality; saberial knows she can’t keep zoeya waiting forever, so she tries to return asap after that one night.
> 
> martyn’s own arc centers around filling turpster’s role. i’ve had the two’s arcs in mind since martyn first show up in lynchwood and turpster in sanctuary hole. while we never see the history unfold between them, i hope i’ve conveyed it through martyn’s tale and turpster’s recounting at wam bam island. 
> 
> it’s a tragic tale of pandora corrupting even the best of people. a younger martyn really looked up to turpster. and turpster did have a soft spot for the kid whose cowboy hat was too big for his head but tried his best to follow in his footsteps anyway. while martyn and turpster have repaired their relationship, it’s not the same as it used to be. turpster’s unaware of martyn’s role in saving him from lynching, as with teep’s.
> 
> which brings me to my next miniature ramble. panda is absolutely convinced that teep killed ‘green’. teep’s been manipulating panda into thinking that by scattering their stuff all over pandora. sabriel (and many other people) know otherwise but at this point, panda can’t be deterred from their quest for revenge. 
> 
> teep’s behaviour is indeed, suicidal (and alarming to a lot of people; don’t use teep as a role model, they’re a terrible one). however! teep knows that they don’t die yet (as they pointed out to zoeya). this feeds into an unusual cycle of teep testing their own abilities in increasingly creative and dangerous ways, and yet, trying to see what will finally off them. the good and the bad part: teep continues to survive.
> 
> they don’t have a drive in life like others. teep relies on others to give them that drive (particularly ravs and zoeya). it takes a lot of effort for them to pretend that everything is okay, which is incredibly costly. teep power naps a lot to counteract that energy demand on top of their chronic insomnia.
> 
> we’ll see teep and panda’s meeting in the next and last chapter, which is happening next month! it’ll be a short chapter. after that, i’ll be back to ‘tlvh’, now that all the major players are in position. there is one last ‘btb’ fic but that’s further down the line.
> 
> anyways, thank you for reading. doodles are over [here](https://borderlandscast.tumblr.com/tagged/beyond-the-borderlands%3A-a-bullet-with-your-name-on-it), which were done by the ebullient siins!


	4. the blinding truth about love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> – / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –  
> everything before this was easy to tell, but this is the hardest part so far. give me a moment to grab a tissue. okay, thanks for your patience. no, i’m fine. the best was yet to come, you know? i still get pretty emotional remembering this story.
> 
> so, this is the story of how an ex-vault hunter and a bounty hunter ended the chase in lynchwood. only one winner emerged.
> 
> it wasn’t teep.  
> – / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major gun related violence and violence abound in this one, so watch out for that in the middle. mind the mild body horror too. after that, there’s a scene with suicidal thoughts and some discussion of it thereafter.

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Rythian: Teep? Are you here yet?

Teep: …

Rythain: Teep! Don’t scare me like that. I almost teleported you into a drain! You could have drowned!

Teep: …

Rythian: You’re not dying a dank death. Where else was I supposed to meet you on such short notice? Parvis apparently wrecked the dam’s Fast Travel Station by ramming into it with his face while doing an ollie, and missed the skateboard. Sparkles told me all about it.

Teep: …

Rythian: No, I’m not meeting you in Ravs’ bed!

Teep: …

Rythian: That wasn’t funny, and you know it.

Teep: …

Rythian: What’s wrong? I had an argument with Nanosounds! She said I wasn’t  _ ‘strong enough’ _ open the other Vaults! Lalna and Strife were  _ such _ a big help, looking so unsure and I don’t know if it’s because they didn’t know what to do or if it’s her Sirenness keeping their mouths shut! If she’d tried anything, I’d have teleported her into the Highlands’ lake next door! Why didn’t I do it? Because I’m the better person!

Teep: …

Rythian: Yes, I’m done ranting. Teep. Am I really that weak?

Teep: …

Rythian: I know I’m not as strong as I used to be, but have I really fallen so far?

Teep: …

Rythian: You can’t joke about ‘that makes two of us’, you’ve always been at the top of your game.

Teep: …

Rythian: Maybe you would be, if you got some more sleep–Teep, your punches hurt.

Teep: …

Rythian: I’m not weak?

Teep: …

Rythian: No, that was thanks to you and Ravs. I survived the last Vault because I got lucky.

Teep: …

Rythian: My luck’s going to run out someday.

Teep: …

Rythian: ‘But not yet’ is a pretty encouraging thing to say. How do you know?

Teep: …

Rythian: Trust myself?

Teep: … 

Rythian: That’s like saying that you’ve got bullets when I’ve got questions. I can’t trust  _ myself _ .

Teep: …

Rythian: You have complete faith in me, but I can’t do it. People just end up dying or getting hurt. 

Teep: …

Rythian: I can’t.

Teep: … 

Rythian: What about all those times I did and nothing bad happened? Flukes.

Teep: …

Rythian: I’m not letting that happen again–sorry, a message from Strife’s just come through.

Teep: …

Rythian: Hmph, the other Vault Hunters need my help. The Bloody Bandits are in danger too. The Blitzkreig Blighters want the dam.

Teep: …

Rythian: Trust them to get into trouble without me.

Teep: …

Rythian: Why am I helping them despite them being little shits?

Teep: …

Rythian: I guess it’s because they’re my friends.

Teep: …

Rythian: Yes, even if they say horrible things sometimes. I’m still mad at them, especially Nanosounds.

Teep: …

Rythian: You want to tag along?

Teep: …

Rythian: It’ll probably be boring for you.

Teep: …

Rythian: Fine, but don’t complain. Let’s find the way back upstairs–we’re not going to get lost. You can’t get lost in a dam.

Teep: …

Rythian: We’re not going to get lost! It’s only five turns back!

Teep: …

Rythian: Why do you want to see my ECHO device? Come on, trust me a little here!

Teep: …

Rythian: No, I don’t have Ravs’ dick set as my background–I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, I’VE NEVER SEEN IT BEFORE.

Teep: …

Rythian: WHY DO YOU HAVE A PICTURE OF RAVS’ DICK? AND WHY DID YOU SEND IT TO ME?

Teep: …

Rythian: YOU DIDN’T JUST SAVE IT FOR ME ALL THESE YEARS, YOU–go away Rats, we’re busy talking about Ravs’ dick.

Teep: …

Rythian: As I was  _ saying, _ I didn’t need you to save me a picture.

Teep: …

Rythian: I’m not keeping it.

Teep: …

Rythian: I’ll get rid of it later! Right now, things are trying to kill us.

Teep: …

Rythian: Thanks, I’m definitely  _ not weak. _ Nanosounds is fucking wrong.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

The laptop’s in safe hands, being examined by more responsible and experienced parties. Said parties will get back to Rythian when they’re done. Sjin’s been awfully busy stirring up trouble with almost everyone (but the couriers), according to the summary of the plans contained on the laptop.

Rythian leaves Ravs to set up the Crooked Caber for the meeting that’ll decide Pandora’s fate. He trudges to the building next door to lie down.

Rest is the furthest thing from his mind. Anxious thoughts dart in and out of the waters of his mind, too quick for him to grasp and pin down to dissect the real issues making them flare into existence. 

Amongst all those, drifting like barges adrift on a disturbed sea are indistinct memories. They tease him, trying to lure him into reminiscing with tantalizing snatches of his fragmented past. The obvious gaps between noteworthy experiences doesn’t bother him as much these days. 

At the moment, all he wants to do is put his head down, close his eyes, and wait for everything to pass. The universe is conspiring against him so that nobody else knows how to deal with  _ her _ . He’s the last one standing in her way.

He’s not going anywhere; sleeping or running when the looming opening of the Vault of the Queen’s impossible. He might as well have asked the others to juggle chainsaws over his head. The other Vault Hunters are using the downtime while they can; it’s been a few hours since he last left Sanctuary Hole, traveled to Opportunity and back. He hasn’t seen the others but their locations bob on the map as preparations continue.

The humid air after the storm’s left a trace of earthy dampness that he can smell, even through his scarf. He doesn’t like rain much, choosing to avoid it wherever possible. In the rare chances that he can’t, that’s what the spare clothes in his inventory’s for.

Soon, he’ll also be addressing who exactly ‘the Queen’ is. Talking about her’s like talking about skagzilla: a shiver up the spine, almost every hair standing up on end, plus the feeling of being watched even when both radar and room are empty.

He sidesteps someone emerging from the building he’s about to enter. He blinks, and there stands Teep. Finding Teep these days is like trying to grab a ghost; Teep’s around, but not really quite ‘around’, so Rythian gets the impression that Teep’s waiting. Something’s compelling them to keep waiting. That never stopped them from being there when he needed them.

What compels Teep to stay can’t be wanting to kill the Queen. They and Rythian had temporarily sealed the Vault with all that dynamite Ravs magically obtained. Hiding the Vault Key by keeping it on him was another safety measure. Neither had held up against Sjin’s plans. Time’s working against the Vault Hunters, but Sjin can’t expect to unlock the Vault right away.

While Rythian would like to rush into the Vault with guns blazing, Sjin expects it. Rythian stays his hand and waits, with all the other Vault Hunters. Information's their best friend right now.

Teep’s also one of his best friends. He’s known for them for only a couple of years, but his deliberate vanishing act’s dragged them apart. Pandora dumped them next to each other again when he’s randomly turned up to Zoeya’s laboratory in the Caustic Caverns. 

He’s always been surprised to know that Teep still thinks highly of him (according to Ravs, and Ravs didn’t sugarcoat his opinions about Teep, or any opinion that’s not flirting).

Sparing Teep during their first meeting could have been a fatal mistake. Doing so had earned him their unwavering loyalty, which they’d proven to him over the years. Rythian wouldn’t trade their friendship for anything in the universe (and while a few things came close, he’d still refuse to betray them).

“Are you going to the meeting?” Rythian asks.

“I was just looking for you,” Teep signs. Looking right into their goggles gives him no clues about what they want from him. He’s usually the one wanting something from them. “But no, I’m not going.”

Rythian stares hard at Teep. He’d gone ahead and assumed that they’d be going, if only to make sure that the Queen stays dead. For Teep not to go is–it’s  _ weird, _ for lack of a better term. It’s also oddly upsetting. 

He keeps that off his face, but Teep has a way of knowing. Between Ravs and Teep, he’d thought that Teep would be more eager to exact revenge for what the Queen did to their mind, eyes and face.

“Why not?” Rythian remembers when they’d broken one of his fingers after he’d taken their knife. It’d been after Ravs had tried to get them to sleep, after Zylus had joined them. There’s countless other small moments of Teep getting even with whoever crossed them. For them to ignore one this life-changing event’s drastically out of character.

“I have,” Teep falters in their signing, and it’s the first time they’ve ever done so, to him, “something I need to do.” They drop their hands, raising them again a second later. “Sorry.” The word’s not used often, judging by how abruptly it’s signed.

“No, you don’t need to apologise.” Rythian forces a laugh, trying not to feel let down. “You’ve been a great help.” He adds something that he should have said all those years ago, “Thank you.”

“I need to go. Can’t waste my time with sappy goodbyes.” Teep goes to move past him.

“You’re actually saying goodbye?” Rythian sees them nod. “Wait! This is yours.” He drags the combat knife in its sheath from his belt, holding it out. His mind briefly forgets who’d last used the knife and what for.

Teep stares at it for a long, long moment. They raise their hand to take it. They gently push it back towards him. “Keep it. It’s yours.”

“I can’t keep it!” Rythian tries to teleport it into their hand. Teep twirls the moved sheathed knife through the air, grabbing it and slapping it back into his open hand.

“I should have taught you some fancy tricks. It doesn’t matter much now.” Teep also hands him a slim, dog-eared paperback. “Here’s a goodbye present.” Rythian takes it as well before it can fall to the ground. 

The paperback’s almost falling apart, thumb marks marking the edges, browned pages worn to a pleasing softness. The cover’s been taped multiple times to the point of hiding the title underneath the layers. A book’s a rarity on Pandora. Even on the cusp of goodbye, Rythian keeps learning new things about his friend.

They pat him on the shoulder as they pass, like it’s no big deal that this is the last time he’ll be seeing them. His gut’s turning wider and wider circles, urging him to act. Rythian teleports in front of Teep. If he can’t give them anything else, he can give them this one thing, at least. 

He holds out his arms, distantly aware that he looks like an idiot but that’s the last of his concerns. “Can I get a hug?”

To his immense surprise, Teep indulges him. They step forward, throwing their arms around him. This isn’t like the hug on Elpis, all stiff and full of tension like they expect a knife to the back. It hits Rythian that they’ve always truly considered him a friend. They might not want to go and do what they have to do, just like him facing down the Queen.

Nostalgia explodes in his chest so that it curls around his heart. It sends a blasted trickle of water to his eyes, vision swimming like he’s run into a raincloud. He pretends it’s nothing when Teep finally lets go of him. Teep regards him for about five seconds. They stride off, back straight, moving a touch faster than their usual, impatient pace.

Turning, Rythian tugs back the door to the building and enters his room, flipping through his memory at last to find every memory of Teep. He’s determined not to forget them this time.

When he opens the book, his eyes travel to the image taped inside of the cover. Rythian closes his eyes. Nobody’s around to witness his face going the reddest it’s ever gone to match a ripe firemelon plant’s color.

He closes the cover on a photo of Ravs wearing less clothes than usual. Something in his mind helpfully reminds him that it was likely taken after that one fateful night. Well, he can’t fault Teep for trying to cheer him up, but this method, he could do without.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Lomadia: Zoeya. Good evening.

Nilesy: Come in! We’re having hot chocolate–you’re crying. Why are you crying. Tears are bad.

Zoeya: I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to be alone right now, and I can’t talk to Saberial or Teep, but if you’re busy–

Nilesy: Nonsense! Here, have my chair, I’ll just run and get a stool from the bar. Ravs is taking the trash out but he’ll be back soon.

Lomadia: Here, some tissues. They’re not the crappy Tediore kind either.

Zoeya: Thank you. Let me just blow my nose–

Nilesy: What happened?

Lomadia: Take your time.

Zoeya: Saberial said some really awful things, I said some awful things and it’s all a really big mess right now.

Nilesy: Let’s start from the beginning.

Zoeya: Okay.

Lomadia: Here’s your hot chocolate. It’s still hot, so be careful.

Zoeya: She and Teep were going to show up at the hotpot. I took a night off because I didn’t feel like going and had some work to catch up on, but I saw Saberial left her vest so I thought I’d bring it up…

Nilesy: Have some water in the meantime.

Zoeya: Thank you.

Nilesy: And then?

Zoeya: She and Teep never turned up!

Lomadia: Indeed. Ravs mentioned that they might be late. 

Zoeya: They were never going to go. I overheard Saberial telling Teep not to tell me anything, when they finally got back.

Nilesy: Yikes. Hey, hey, you can stay overnight. I’ll just kip in Lomadia’s bed.

Lomadia: You can’t hit me in the face again if you do.

Nilesy: Last time was an accident!

Zoeya: I’m so sorry to trouble you–

Lomadia: It’s no trouble. You’re having a rough night.

Nilesy: Besides, we’re all friends here.

Zoeya: I–I don’t think Saberial wants to see me anymore.

Nilesy: Did she say that?

Zoeya: No! I just assume that after I told her to stop caring about me–she never asked me to care, so I told her that I’d stop–I just said it to hurt her and she was talking to Panda when she left–I’m a  _ bad _ person.

Lomadia: Saying terrible things and meaning them is different.

Zoeya: I don’t think I deserve her.

Nilesy: Marshmallow?

Zoeya: Just one.

Nilesy: Done! Here you go.

Ravs: Everything alright? I saw the light was on up here–Zoeya? What’s wrong?

Nilesy: She had an argument with Saberial and is staying here for tonight.

Lomadia: If that’s fine?

Ravs: It’s always fine! She’s in capable hands here, I see. I’ll just go and get ready for bed.

Zoeya: Good night.

Lomadia: Good night.

Nilesy: Good night!

Ravs: Good night.

Zoeya: I also said some really bad things to Teep…

– / / SKIPPING AHEAD TO SECOND PART OF LOG. / / –

Ravs: Good thing she didn’t see you about to knock on the door.

Teep: …

Ravs: She’s fine, don’t worry. Nilesy and Lomadia got it covered.

Teep: …

Ravs: I’m sorry for not covering for you better.

Teep: …

Ravs: No, no it’s just as much my fault.

Teep: …

Ravs: There’s no point in accepting all the blame since it’s all getting complicated. You want to stay for the night? I can budge over. You won’t even take up that much room.

Teep: …

Ravs: Alright, but my offer’s always open. Good night, Teep.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

In the Crooked Caber, Nilesy’s wiping his new cat down with a damp dishcloth, running the fabric with tender love and care over her shining, diamond back. The cat meows, batting at his hands, tail flicking with content pleasure. Lomadia spots Teep gently tapping on the doorframe with their knuckles (as to not startle the cat).

“Teep,” She acknowledges, leaving another cloth for Nilesy to use by him.

Nilesy perks up upon spotting Teep. “Teep! Come and meet Elsa! She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“Indeed,” Teep signs. They stay in the doorway, staring at the diamond cat currently watching them.

“Sorry, you can’t pat her yet, I’ve only just polished her!” Nilesy sighs, sounding and looking overjoyed with his newest companion. “I don’t deserve her, she’s too radiant for me.”

“But you’re still going to keep her?” Teep inquires.

“Of course!” Nilesy indignantly says. “I can’t entrust her to anybody else!” The cat headbutts his still hand. “It’s alright, the Nilesator’s got you…” He says to her, enamoured.

“Did you need us?” Lomadia tilts her head.

“I’m not going to the meeting,” Teep signs, turning their goggles on her.

“Why not?” Lomadia’s brow creases. “Rythian said you were.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m saying goodbye,” Teep flippantly signs. “Just thought I’d let you know.”

Nilesy stops wiping down the diamond cat, his smile absent. “Goodbye?” He echoes. Teep nods, not wanting to repeat themself. “Why?”

“Something else needs my attention.”

“It can’t wait?” Nilesy looks between Teep and Lomadia, his expression devoid of whatever happiness it’d held earlier.

“No, it can’t.” Teep shifts, stepping into the tiny room that’d once been a guest room, which Nilesy had converted into his own since arriving in Sanctuary Hole.

“Is it that important?” Lomadia’s voice fails to conceal a hint of worry. Teep nods for the second time. Her sleepy expression falls. “I never paid you for the sharpshooting lessons.”

“That’s fine.” Teep shrugs. “Keep it.”

“You don’t want the fifty dollars?”

“Save your money. It’s no use where I’m going.” Teep moves to leave. “Thanks for everything. Goodbye.”

In one move, Lomadia grabs them by the back of the jacket, her knuckles clenching in the small of their back. Teep pauses. “Please let me do this, if you won’t take the money.” Her sombre expression’s imploring.

Teep turns, letting her hug them. Lomadia folds her arms around their upper body under their arms, giving them a simple hug that doubles as her thanks for teaching her everything about sharpshooting, and for being here. She only comes up to their shoulder. After a minute, she pulls away, drawing back with her eyes glittering.

Nilesy can’t stand it any longer.

“I want to hug you too!” The dishcloth tumbles out of Nilesy’s hand as he hurtles off the bed, almost tripping in his haste to grace Teep with a farewell hug too. His hug’s grateful, passing on a silent ‘thank you’ that’s identical to Lomadia’s hug.

Teep pats him on the back, once, letting him extract himself. Nilesy removes his glasses, wiping his eyes. He could honestly joke and tug out Nilesy Junior. Instead, he and Lomadia don’t say a single word. Teep doesn’t acknowledge the two upon leaving the room. 

The cat slips off the bed to retrieve the cloth. She brings it over to Nilesy, dropping it at his feet. She doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about, her meowing inquisitive and pointed. 

“Alright, alright, stop your complaining, I haven’t forgotten you.” Nilesy reaches down to pick her up, patting her back like he’s trying to comfort himself. Lomadia stares past the window.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Lalnable: Who calibrated your leg?

HybridPanda: Me. Didn’t have time to go running to a doctor, so it’s all been on the fly.

Lalnable: You’ve done a remarkable job for someone who doesn’t really know what they’re doing.

HybridPanda: Thanks, doc?

Saberial: What’s with that expression?

Lalnable: Nothing.

HybridPanda: Can you make it stop going achy achy in the morning?

Lalnable: It’s likely just an artificial nerve misfiring. A proper, professional calibration should fix that.

HybridPanda: Oh good, I thought it’d need a replacement! I don’t really want to do physical therapy again. I get enough of that with my job.

Lalnable: How long have you had this prosthetic?

HybridPanda: Nearly ten years.

Lalnable: How many refittings? At least you’ve kept this remarkably clean.

HybridPanda: You don’t need to sound so surprised, doc. Five refittings. it took me three years to find one that wasn’t completely shit.

Saberial: Language!

Lalnable: It’s fine, I’ve heard worse from bandits. Hold still, I’ll need to tweak your artificial nerves to find out where which are misfiring.

HybridPanda: Hey, what’s with that funky, purple colored jar that’s covered in blood?

Lalnable: The one on the bench? A private project.

Saberial: Is that from Hyperion? I see the sticker.

Lalnable: A mystery client thought I’d be interested in investigating eridium poisoning. I should really have put those away before you came in, it’s none of your business.

HybridPanda: Alright, alright. Was just curious, and making conversation since I can’t feel my leg.

Saberial: Sorry. Panda, say sorry too.

HybridPanda: Sorry.

Lalnable: It’s fine. I have a even nosier bandit who hangs out here sometimes, so I thought I’d be safe if I left that out.

HybridPanda: He seems cool. He offered me a lollipop earlier.

Saberial: Were they his to offer.

Lalnable: No.

Saberial: Panda, you should probably give back those three lollipops.

HybridPanda: I only took one!

Saberial: I saw you take three.

HybridPanda: I saw you take two.

Lalnable: No, keep them! I’m trying to wean Parvis off lollipops. In fact, please take half the jar.

Saberial: Are you sure?

HybridPanda: He said we could! Also, pass me a pink one, the pink ones are the yummiest.

Saberial: You’re such a greedyguts.

HybridPanda: Hey, it takes a lot of energy to be as handsome as me.

Saberial: I’m not calling you ugly, I’m calling you greedy.

HybridPanda: I’m a pro at defensive eating! My time has come.

Lalnable: Diagnostics and calibrations are now done. Stay sitting for a minute and then you can try standing.

HybridPanda: Is it okay if I take ten lollipops? I get low blood sugar sometimes when I’m busy and forget to eat.

Lalnable: Go ahead.

Saberial: Where do you get all these from?

Lalnable: I get them for free whenever I order supplies from Anshin.

Saberial: How many do you have?

Lalnable: Don’t tell Parvis, but I have three more ammo crates’ worth stashed away.

HybridPanda: And where would these be kept? Just to make sure nobody else is going to steal them, or anything.

Saberial: You don’t have to say anything, the less we know, the better. Right, Panda?

HybridPanda: Why are you looking at me like you want me to shut up?

Saberial: Maybe because I do actually want you to shut up, but I don’t want to be so rude in front of Lalnable?

Lalnable: Oh no, I did not just send you the coordinates, my finger must have slipped in my HUD!

HybridPanda: Oh no, I accidently saved the coordinates! 

Saberial: You two don’t have to pretend.

Lalnable: Fine. This is a mutually beneficial bargain. You get rid of the lollipops, and I’ll do my best to find you a suitable replacement prosthetic if yours gets destroyed.

HybridPanda: You ever work in the core worlds?

Lalnable: Why do you ask?

HybridPanda: Your bedside manner’s amazing. All those other docs, except for this one nurse who was super nice, don’t really care about people. They just wanted me out as soon as possible.

Saberial: Maybe it’s because you kept wrecking your leg.

HybridPanda: Yeah, but those weren’t my fault!

Saberial: Fair enough.

HybridPanda: If anything, they should be thanking me for giving them more business. Anyway, mind if I make you my emergency doc?

Lalnable: I’m deeply flattered to hear that.

Saberial: Can you also teach Panda how to calibrate their leg in a pinch?

HybridPanda: Thanks for the reminder, sis. The nerve keeps slipping. You fixed it now, but it’ll probably come back.

Saberial: Just looking out for you.

Lalnable: You should always make time for proper calibrations, but if you’re in a rush…here, I sent you a file. This is only in emergencies. It’ll shut down all but the basic sensors. Your prosthetic is getting old, hence the misfiring nerves. Pushing your leg past its maximum limit will mean getting a replacement.

HybridPanda: What happens once I push it past the limit?

Lalnable: It stops working. It could explode.

HybridPanda: Really?

Lalnable: Not unless you illegally modify it. That was a joke, don’t look so worried, Saberial.

Saberial: Oh, okay!

HybridPanda: Even that’s too hardcore for me.

Saberial: Oh, really? Hybrid ‘I had fifteen back to back surgeries to fix my leg and body’ Panda thinks illegally modifying their leg’s too hardcore. I must be dreaming!

HybridPanda: Fuck off, sis. Ow.

Lalnable: Well, the next time your leg and eye malfunction badly, you come to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself, or you might cause extensive damage.

HybridPanda: Gotcha, doc.

Lalnable: Here’s some painkillers. And it’s Lalnable!

Saberial: Say ‘thank you’, Panda.

HybridPanda: Thank you, Lalnable. Here’s the fee and a giant tip.

Lalnable: I appreciate your kind generosity. Please don’t come again so soon.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Zoeya is working in Teep’s bedroom when Teep slips in. Her laptop (once theirs) is stripping data from the camera, footage flashing on the dimmed screen. All she has to do is click the prompts. Aside from supervising the laptop, she’s picking images for her in-progress book about Pandora’s fauna and flora. It’ll be a good prop for her paper. Maybe she’ll even get copies done to send to all her friends and the people who helped it happen.

Behind her, Teep reaches under the bed to retrieve a black sniper rifle case. She hears the bed creak as Teep drops the case onto it. The bed creaks again when the case despawns. The logical conclusion here would be that Teep’s getting ammo. Zoeya doesn’t pay much attention, marking potential images that’ll make it into the final version.

A frame by frame video of Rythian getting headbutted off a cliff by a giant, cranky rakk has her giggling to herself. He teleported back onto high ground, slamming into a rock from how fast he was falling, with much cursing.

She has over thirty videos of him being a victim to various creatures. Her expression sobers when she skips over a video of a stalker landing on his back, briefly remembering what’s underneath his shirt. Really, she’s trying not to worry about him, but it’s hard, like being told not to think about something but her brain ignores that anyway.

Zoeya nearly drops the ECHO device she’s fiddling with when Teep touches her on the shoulder. “Teep!” Zoeya swivels her chair to face them. “What’s cooking, good looking?”

“Saberial still at Lalnable’s?” Teep inquires.

“Yeah, she’s still getting fixed up after Opportunity happened. She’ll be back soon.” She despawns her ECHO device, twiddling her thumbs. “What’s wrong? You seem sad.”

“Here.” Ignoring her questions, Teep spawns a white envelope, handing it to her. They spawn a stack of bills held together with a paper band. Several more join it. They place the neat pile on the table, stepping back. 

Zoeya fumbles when taking the envelope, tugging the page inside out. She reads it, her wide eyes scanning the handwritten words. “You’re resigning, but what’s with all the money?”

“It’s all the pay you’ve ever given me. You need it, especially if you plan to stay on Pandora after everything.” Teep’s explanation does nothing to ease the unpleasant spike of apprehension inside of her chest.

“I can’t accept this!” She shakes her head, folding the letter back into the envelope. Her clumsiness almost crumples the page, twisting in her hands.

“The money?” Teep nudges the pile towards her, then gestures to the letter she’s still holding. “Or the resignation letter?”

“The money! And the resignation!” Zoeya drops the letter. It slides across the table, stopped by the pile of cash. When she stands, Teep stares at her. Her chair rolls over to the bed, thudding against it. “You can’t go!”

“I need to,” Teep slowly signs.

“You can’t,” Zoeya repeats. Her eyes blink rapidly, brimming so that Teep becomes a dark green shape against the plain backdrop of the room. “Is this about Panda?” Teep nods. “You have to stay! Rythian, Ravs, Nilesy, Lomadia, Turpster, Saberial and me, and everybody you know, we’ll miss you!” Teep shakes their head, still as calm as ever. “We will!” She fiercely says. A tear rolls down a cheek. “So please,  _ please, _ stay, even if the Vault’s opening and everything’s going to not be okay.”

Teep raises a hand to wipe away the lone tear. “Everything will be okay, even if I’m not here.” She doesn’t ask how they know this, or if they’re just saying that purely to reassure her.

“You have to stay! That’s how everything will be okay! Everything’s okay when you’re here! If you’re not here, everything won’t be okay.” Zoeya’s growing hysterical as she rambles, trying to convince Teep not to leave on their mission. “I’ll try harder to keep the place clean!”

Teep gestures at the room. Once upon a time, it’d been filled up to the ceiling with papers. These days, the piles are restricted to a single work table in another area. “You’re already doing that without me.”

“I need you! It’ll be lonely–” Zoeya pleads.

“No, you don’t,” Teep signs, cutting her off. “You have plenty of friends now, and Saberial.” It’s like they’re saying that she doesn’t need them anymore, and she doesn’t, but she still wants them to stay because they’re her friend. First Rythian, and now Teep.

Teep’s right. Them being right doesn’t make letting them leave any easier. 

Zoeya catches them in a bear hug to bury her face in the front of their jacket. Teep pats her on the head. Their sigh reverberates through their chest, against her cheek. The faint trace of cleaning oil for weapons, fills her nose; Teep’s never smelled of blood. 

They’ve always been careful about their goings out. She learns from Ravs later that it takes them a while to return to the Caustic Caverns, since they’re borrowing his shower. Small habits, like Teep reminding her to eat and drink during an intensive observation session, watching out for her in the field, to letting her crash in their bed when it’s too cold, wrap around her heart to squeeze it. Saberial’s taken Teep’s place for those things, but it’ll never be the same.

“Come back, okay?” Zoeya whispers, releasing Teep from the hug that’d probably gone on too long but which they’d permitted. They didn’t need it, but she did. That’s another thing that she’ll miss.

Teep doesn’t answer.

\--

– / / Teep is no longer idle in ‘fly me to the slagsucking moon’. / / –

Teep: zylus, i just sent you instructions on how to activate greenman’s stealth drive, assuming you haven’t figured it out already. you’ll need it so pay close attention.

Teep: use it well. it’s a big drain on fuel so be careful with it. you’ve taken good care of greenman all these years. don’t stop taking good care of it and yourself.

Teep: also, tell minty her ‘cake’ was pretty tasty. say goodbye to junior for me. 

Teep: later.

– / / Teep has changed the chat name to ‘happy voring’.  / / –

– / / Teep is now offline.  / / –

\--

Ravs is in his room when there’s a gentle tapping on his bedroom window. He puts down Punchee, his new shield, stepping to the left. Teep’s crouching on the roof of his bar. They wave to him. Ravs opens the window, pushing it up to let Teep climb through. For someone so tall, they make it look far too easy. As they straighten up to their full height, he closes the window, flicking the latch shut.

“Teep! Why aren’t you resting?” Ravs asks. 

It’s good to see them. Even if Teep can’t exactly rest with their chronic insomnia, they should be trying to, unless they’re here for a specific reason. He doesn’t mind; they’d sought him out after the meriff election, cheering him up when he’d turned away Rythian and the others.

“I’m going to.” They nod at his unmade bed with all its fur blankets messily pushed to the side. “That offer of yours still open?”

“What offer?” Ravs blinks. He hasn’t made any offer to Teep in the past few months.

“I’m offended that you forgot.” Teep wags an annoyed finger at him, exaggerating a sigh. They move.

They lock his door, double-checking it and the window. They draw the curtains shut. The mining lantern by Ravs’ bed begins to emit a soft, orange glow the instant that the room’s shrouded in darkness.

Satisfied that the room’s secure, Teep stands in front of him, a tall, thin shape outlined by the light. Ravs isn’t intimidated.

With one hand, Teep tugs their hood back, pushing up their goggles, despawning their face wrappings. He can barely see the sharp smirk directed at him. His eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark yet.

“Oh,  _ that _ offer.” Ravs chuckles, trading his shock for playfulness. “I think we can fit a round in.”

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Ravs: Last boss! You ready?

Teep: …

Ravs: We’ve been running this hellish gauntlet for two days now. We literally can’t get any fucking better than this. After Corvax and the Caustic Caverns, this is too easy.

Teep: …

Ravs: Haha! I agree, we got this. That thing’s going down. Same deal, I draw its fire and you work on taking it down until it notices you. We do this together, as always.

Teep: …

Ravs: Let’s go. 

Teep: …

Ravs: Aim for the eye? Got it!

Teep: …

Ravs: I’m fine, I dodged it! Thanks for spotting that missile barrage!

Teep: …

Ravs: Good shot! I got its insides from here! Keep firing! The slag’s helping!

Teep: …

Ravs: Teep! Now! While I got its attention!

Teep: …

Ravs: I got you, you’re not going over that cliff while I’m around! You alright?

Teep: …

Ravs: Teep, guess what?

Teep: …

Ravs: We did it. We did it.  _ We did it! WE DID IT! _

Teep: …

Ravs: We cleared Digistruct Peak! I can’t believe it! We kicked its metaphorical  _ ass! _

Teep: …

Ravs: My accent didn’t slip just now!

Teep: …

Ravs: It didn’t! That’s just the shock of your near-death experience talking.

Teep: …

Ravs: We could celebrate the only way I know how…

Teep: … 

Ravs: Just kidding. I know you’re not into that.

Teep: …

Ravs: Let’s get cleaned up. My place?

Teep: …

Ravs: My place it is. Sure, you can use my shower. Dinner’s on me. What do you feel like?

Teep: …

Ravs: Skag steak? Alright. I’m sure I got some in the freezer.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

It’s still nighttime when Ravs yawns into his pillow. A hand scratches his stubble. He should shave before heading off to help with doomsday preparations. Even if the end of the universe is nigh, his mother wouldn’t approve of him looking like a slovenly, bearded mess. She’d send maternal waves of nagging until he picks up a razor. If he’s planning on shaving, leaving the bed’s the first step.

Until then, he’s got someone to pester for a second round. Even as he pats the bed next to him, Ravs already knows that he’s not going to get it. A tiny part of him (proving that he really is a ‘naive, optimistic idiot’, even after all this time) had hoped otherwise.

His fingertips touch metal, cooled by the night. Whatever it is clinks, sliding down onto the fur blankets. Someone had left it sitting on the other pillow, nestled in the imprint of their head. Ravs feels for the rest, lifting it up. The edges catch in the lantern’s light. It’s a metal chain with an array of dogtags dangling off it. He counts several polished silver dogtags spinning in place.

All and any personal details were ruthlessly voided years ago. Each of the scratches are precise, almost gouging through to the other side. It’s hardly worth keeping, and yet.

Another item’s resting on the pillow next to it. It’s a matchbox. Gently sliding the inside bit out reveals two small, broken shards of eridium. One’s bloody. The other isn’t. It seems important, so he puts it away in his inventory.

In his hand, the dogtags spin on the chain. He spots the black one that’s nearly hidden under the others. There’s no writing on that one. When he flips it, there’s a symbol carefully painted on it, tantalizingly familiar. Ravs spends a few seconds holding the dogtags in his palm, staring at them, deep in thought.

Their owner left them with him for a reason. Maybe several reasons. It’s not against human nature to be struck with the emotional significance of a parting gift, the meaning so clear that it leaves Ravs staggering.

He slips the chain over his head, letting it settle against his bare chest. A silent vow, to never forget.

At last, he finally remembers: Teep’s hair is dark brown.

\--

– / / GodOfArrows is no longer idle. / / –

GodOfArrows: hey green

DiNoScope: what

GodOfArrows: just realised that its been several years since i met you and not a day goes by where i dont talk to you

DiNoScope: has it really been that long

GodOfArrows: yeah! fizone told me to poke you

DiNoScope: it feels waaaaaaay shorter than that

GodOfArrows: ikr

DiNoScope: itll be your birthday next week

GodOfArrows: hey since you dont know your birthday and all that, why dont we combine birthdays until you find out your real one

DiNoScope: thats the stupidest idea ive ever heard and out of the five hundred and sixty eight ideas youve had over the years this one fucking ranks within the top five

GodOfArrows: WE CAN HAVE DOUBLE CAKES

DiNoScope: i dont like cake

GodOfArrows: you dont like cats either but it doesnt stop you from listening to me talk about cats so why should it be the same about cake

DiNoScope: thats because its impossible to shut you up thanks to flaxs magic

GodOfArrows: let me be sappy for thirty seconds

DiNoScope: your thirty seconds is ticking

GodOfArrows: seriously lets have the same birthday

DiNoScope: this is not only the stupidest idea youve ever had its also the gayest

GodOfArrows: dude its gonna be the best and gayest birthday

DiNoScope: why is it going to be the best and gayest birthday

GodOfArrows: because its gonna be yours too!

DiNoScope: i dont get why you and everybodys so invested on celebrating why you were born

GodOfArrows: bc if you werent born, you wouldnt be here, i wouldnt have met you and we wouldnt have become besties

DiNoScope: is that how you really feel

GodOfArrows: yeah dude thats how i really feel but if you doubt me i can come onto mic and jam about it 

DiNoScope: go jam with flax or vertiigo i cant jam to save my own life

GodOfArrows: oooohhh i see how it is

DiNoScope: see what

GodOfArrows: somebodys not good with mushy shiiiiiiit

DiNoScope: are you honestly fucking high right now

GodOfArrows: nah youve heard me being high before

DiNoScope: why would you want to share your birthday with me

GodOfArrows: i made a list

DiNoScope: i cant believe you made a list

GodOfArrows: you hog my medpacks, steal all my kills, dominate me in pvp matches, get whipped by me in turn, verbally humiliate me, get your ass handed to you by my sick burns, have my back when i didnt think you were paying attention, and i got yours, you make fun of my music but you refuse to let anybody but me change the in game radio in the wagon, sent me so many idiotic care packages that most of its hoarded in my room back home, helped me build up my sick arsenal of weapons, trolled me until i ragequit, let me troll you until you dont speak to me for half a day, helped me punt all the newbies back to school, stream like a beast, tolerate all the cat pictures i send you, secretly read all the fic i pass to fizone, listened to me rage about my family and never told them that i did, helped me practice my evil laugh, laughed at me when i broke a couple of bones practicing your parkour tips and i could go on and on but i think 

GodOfArrows: i ran out of space

DiNoScope: thats a long list

GodOfArrows: theres more

– / / FiZone is no longer idle. / / –

FiZone: i see johns really insistent on sharing birthdays!

GodOfArrows: hallo fizone

FiZone: my nap was fine before you ask and my collarbones healing nicely

DiNoScope: nice

GodOfArrows: fizone help me convince green that its worth sharing birthdays with me

FiZone: honestly john is not going to let it go until you say yes

GodOfArrows: i think its a pretty good deal from me in offering to share my birthday so its not gonna get any better than that

FiZone: what about all the other trillion or so people who share birthdays with you

GodOfArrows: they can suck my hypothetical dick they didnt ask my permission to share bdays

DiNoScope: is john gonna shut up if i say yes

GodOfArrows: yes

Fizone: yes

DiNoScope: fine ill share your birthday

GodOfArrows: FUCK YES im ordering the cakes now

FiZone: woo!

GodOfArrows: this is gonna be so fucking great

FiZone: we’re gonna have to tell everyone so they know!

DiNoScope: your thirty seconds was up ages up

GodOfArrows: bullshit you let me talk

DiNoScope: i forgot to start the timer before

GodOfArrows: liar

FiZone: brb my dates here

– / / FiZone is now idle. / / –

GodOfArrows: hey green

DiNoScope: what

GodOfArrows: if we ever meet irl do you think we will still be besties after

DiNoScope: why

GodOfArrows: idk people get weird after they meet me and it turns out that im a bigger hotshot than they ever imagined so they get all jealous and dont ever talk to me again

DiNoScope: forget about them

GodOfArrows: but they were my friends too

DiNoScope: its not going to be that way and if it becomes that then you can shoot me

GodOfArrows: im not gonna shoot you!

DiNoScope: with that accuracy of yours you couldnt hit hermes even if you had a giant laser

GodOfArrows: haha i know it needs work

DiNoScope: when did you want to meet irl

GodOfArrows: thats really tough

DiNoScope: you started it

GodOfArrows: lets say in one year

DiNoScope: alright

GodOfArrows: i didnt think youd change your mind after the dionysus merc convention

DiNoScope: people change

GodOfArrows: id better practice my hugging

DiNoScope: and id better practice my backstabbing

GodOfArrows: if you stab me pls stab me in the butt i need a cool scar there

DiNoScope: ill put my initials on your butt so people will know i was there

GodOfArrows: aw yiss

DiNoScope: ill also put git gud

GodOfArrows: NO!!!!!!

\--

Panda brings Johnson down onto the landing platform. Lynchwood’s landing platform is a marked patch of dirt based on top of a hill. Teep’s read message occupies a space underneath the map of the mining town in Panda’s HUD.

Panda can’t let rage get the better of them; it had a nasty habit of ruining everything it could reach, from hunts to relationships. Saberial’s confiscated the chainsaw after Honeydew had dobbed them in. This fight’s going to be less fun without it. Also, Panda’s frustrated; Saberial seems to think that the chainsaw will end up hurting them.

Martyn awaits Panda by the lift, escorting them to the edge of town. A few Toms wait around inside the actual lift, talking amongst themselves. Each Tom snaps to attention when Panda and Martyn arrive. One presses the button, letting the lift descend in a silence so determined that a knife would have snapped when trying to cut it. Panda’s the main cause. They don’t give a shit.

“John?” Martyn clears his throat, the polite sound bouncing in the interior of the lift. It soon disperses like free food in a crowd of ravenous university students.

“Yeah?” Panda acknowledges.

Martyn’s a good friend; he’d given them all manner of helpful leads and enough jobs to keep Panda busy. The people of Lynchwood are now familiar with the sight of Johnson landing and taking off, plus Panda’s presence at the sheriff office.

Right now, his apprehension adds to the stifling atmosphere in the lift. “You reckon you’ll succeed in bringing in Teep?” Underneath the question is a slight, anticipatory edge. Martyn knows the history behind the upcoming duel, thanks to the detailed file Panda shared regarding their opponent.

“You didn’t try to arrest Teep, did you?” Panda gives Martyn a trying look. Enough people have tried that in the distant past to end up dead or close. That’s how Vertiigo ended up in hospital for an entire month, scarred for life by challenging Teep.

The killing spree broke on the same day Green stopped appearing on Panda’s friendlist. Ever the optimist, Saberial maintained that Green would be back someday. As a pessimist, Panda rationalised that Teep must have gone after Green, regardless of pay or personal vendetta. Green would have been the perfect target to deal damage to Panda.

To this day, Panda still can’t stop reflexively looking for the tell-tale notification that told them that ‘DiNoScope’ is online. There’s a lot that Panda never got to say to them.

“Nah, I warned my Toms in advance. One spotted Teep arriving via Fast Travel. They just skipped Main Street and took the long way around up to the old mines. Doesn’t pay well to tangle with a sharpshooter armed with just this pistol.” With a wink, Martyn pats the pistol holstered on his hip. It’s a Jakobs number, the traditional sheriff’s chosen weapon, Law. “You got all your weapons?”

Panda triplechecked their current loadout before piloting their ship to Lynchwood. They have everything they need on their person. A prolonged chase lasting for more than five years gave Panda the advantage of becoming familiar with Teep’s modus operandi. The same ran true in reverse. 

Other bounty hunters found Panda’s merciless and unpredictable nature in chasing targets a little off-putting to work with. In some cases, whenever Panda turned up to claim the reward with a bounty alive but sporting broken or frozen extremities, other hunters spread the word not to cross or test Panda.

It’s silly of the others to think that one incident would change Panda. Letting Teep get the better of them hadn’t changed Panda. Now, nearly dying  _ did _ change Panda. Maybe the two are intertwined too closely as to become indistinguishable.

All Panda knows is that they’re going to bring in Teep or die. There’s no ‘die trying’. Something in Panda’s core believes that this is it, their last chance.

“I got my weapons. All I need to do is get there.” Panda’s calmness stirs up whispering amongst the Toms. Panda lets the admiring whispers carry on. Martyn nods, his expression preoccupied. Panda doesn’t know how to reassure Martyn that they’ll be back soon.

Martyn and his posse escort Panda as far as Main Street. In the distance where the train tunnel ends, all the nooses hang empty (they’ve been empty since Martyn duelled Turpster for the role).

Panda’s imaginative mind twitches at the thought of seeing Teep on the end of one, snapping their neck vertebrae to deliver a quick justice. It’d finally end a chase that’d nearly cost Panda everything.

“Good luck,” Martyn bids, tipping his hat.

Panda gives a salute of sorts, marching up the hill. Another lift takes Panda to a mining processing area, past all the sleeping machines waiting for daybreak and their operators. The walk lets Panda think. 

With the exception of their leg, nothing’s going to stand in their way. It’s been recalibrated. In theory, it shouldn’t pose a distraction at all.

Panda’s uncovered eye picks up enough light from Elpis and the electric lanterns hanging off the mining machinery to see where they’re going. Each of the drills pound away at the ground, trying to break through the top layer. The terrain’s open to the sky and the surrounding areas, turning into rising cliffs that pen the back of Lynchwood in.

A few buildings are scattered in the area, shuttered and silent. Nobody’s lived here for some time. Ahead of Panda, a line of boot prints lead up the hill. None return to Lynchwood. Panda follows the boot prints towards the white lights shining in the dark like a beacon.

Ten minutes later, Panda enters the selected arena. The arena’s a flat plain dusted with dirt the colour of brown clay. Gatherings of waste barrels sit rusting by rotting fences, strands of dead weeds poking up between wooden struts.

A cave winds into the mountain to the right. Behind, to the left and in front of Panda are three buildings, all singular and spread apart. Shutters render them defensible. A metal walkway above Panda creaks when the wind brushes past it to watch the unfolding event.

Three spotlights provide the necessary lighting. Panda automatically spots the lone figure seated in the shadow of a building, their legs swinging over the edge. The figure slips from their perch to land, rising to full height. Both hands hang by their sides, weaponless for the time being.

They haven’t changed, as far as Panda can tell.

One of Panda’s thumbs slides underneath their eyepatch. It’s tugged so that the strap loosens, despawning. The exposed cybernetic eye adjusts to the harsh lighting, pupil contracting to take in Teep.

Teep’s relaxed stance evokes an immense, sudden surge of profound malice in Panda. It’s too familiar, vile, and it’s seeped so deeply in Panda’s psyche that when they’re not thinking of vengeance, other thoughts didn’t seem as important.

They have to do this, or they’ll never find peace.

“Teep,” Panda acknowledges, not biting out their name.

Teep nods, acknowledging them in turn. Panda’s mindful of Teep’s hands for the telltale movement of the fabled quick draw that’d wounded (and ended) lives. They literally can’t take their eyes off Teep, not for one second. One second of distraction and it’s over.

Both of their stances shift by a fraction. Panda’s boot scuffs in the dirt, heel digging against soil. Their eyes remain fixated on Teep, whose stance is identical to their own. The two wait, all the seconds stretching on.

The tension coils in Panda’s gut, a spring held in place by a lock of rationality. Every nerve’s set on edge from anticipation of the first move. A bead of sweat forms on Panda’s neck, rolling down, under their jacket. Fingers curl and uncurl. Panda risks blinking, watching Teep.

Teep stays where they are, also waiting and watching. Panda’s not bothered by the lack of smack talking, or preparatory tics. They’re ready for this too.

A stray pebble knocks into a barrel.

Before the sound’s done echoing, Panda draws Conference Call. A cross hatch bursts from the Hyperion shotgun towards Teep, clipping the scenery and ground. Wood cracks, scarred dirt swirling in its wake as it sweeps towards teep. Teep somersaults  _ over _ the line of bullets, rolling behind a sagging fence for cover.

Panda dives behind the nearest building, firing the shotgun again. It tears the fence apart, forcing Teep to move into the open. Teep’s drawn a Dahl sniper rifle with a bayonet affixed to it. They aiming at Panda, strafing to avoid another shotgun round. Panda’s almost impressed that they didn’t panic at the shotgun’s unusual firing pattern.

Rattling burst fire wrecks the metal beside Panda’s head. Ignoring the flecks of metal and concrete caught in their hair, Panda ditches cover to return fire.

Teep dodges the bullets, predicting Panda’s gunfire. Slightly infuriated (and just a little bit thrilled that it’s not going to be a piece of cake after all), Panda switches weapons.

The cryo assault rifle damages Teep’s shield, ricocheting off it. It’s difficult to tell if Teep’s surprised by the move, Teep pausing in reloading to protect their face, their arm stopping the bullets.

Panda seizes the moment to charge in, raising the rifle to slow Teep down with further cryo damage. Teep shrugs off the cryo damage, their shield still active. Whatever shield it is, it’s of higher capacity than Panda’s. It still doesn’t mitigate the drag that cryo finally leaves along Teep’s arm.

The overhead blow that Panda attempt’s deflected by a deft swing of the sniper rifle’s bayonet. Panda swears. Teep feigned reloading to lure Panda close. It seems odd; Teep avoided all and any melee situations unless cornered. Panda doesn’t have time to dwell on it, tugging their knife from its sheath. Their cryo rifle lands in their inventory.

The bayonet meets it, blocking Panda’s stab. Teep doesn’t react to the switch to physical combat, trading the sniper rifle for empty hands. Panda moves automatically, cycling through years of physical training and reflexes honed from painful drills and exercises within their clan’s halls, ever since they were old enough to walk.

They don’t know Teep’s history, but Teep’s succeeding in matching Panda blow for blow, blocking and striking between hits. Both their shields keep flashing, the charges being whittled away with no time to replenish.

It’s a race to see who’ll get the other’s shields down to none. From there, nothing’ll stop the other from finishing the duel to the death. Panda has to move before then. On top of that, they can’t let Teep from quick draw a pistol or a sniper rifle; either one of those weapons is deadly in Teep’s hands.

Teep’s made a perfect kill from over one hundred metres armed with just a stolen Tediore pistol. It’s clear that Teep’s skills haven’t degraded since hiding on Pandora, surpassing all of Panda’s initial expectations.

A part of Panda’s ashamed for enjoying how nobody else’s made them feel this way. This is the greatest challenge of their life; literally nothing can get better than this. It’ll be boring without Teep around. Something inside Panda is glad that this is the final fight; they have no idea what’ll happen after this.

Everything hinges on the outcome.

Teep grabs Panda’s wrists, forcing the knife backwards. For a skinny prick, Teep’s grip is like one of those oversized bandits with the bucket heads. Panda doesn’t want to let go of the knife; they don’t have a spare. Even if they did, they wouldn't have time to grab it. The cryo’s melting on Teep’s arm, that slight advantage fading fast.

Panda presses forward, hands aching all over. Their right wrist pinches, throbbing.

The blade’s edge is grazing Teep’s shoulder, the blue edge almost touching their jacket. With a grunt, Panda gathers up all their weight to shove back, driving the knife home. Teep recoils as the knife shears down their chest in a straight, diagonal line. Their shield flashes a warning, shimmering as the layer thins.

Teep’s right hand moves to a digistruct module on their belt.

Without thinking, Panda dives at Teep, tackling them. The two end up on the ground, Teep grabbing Panda’s head to headbutt them. Ignoring the warning that their own shield’s down to ten percent, Panda snatches Teep’s jacket and delivers a fist to their face three times. Their knuckles slide off the shield, the impact numbing up their arm.

Teep doesn’t miss a beat, palm slamming under Panda’s chin. It stuns Panda for a second. Before that second’s spent, Teep punches Panda thrice to match the previous blows.

This isn’t a duel, it’s a struggle between two people who dearly wanted the other dead in as brutal a means as possible.

Thrashing underneath Panda, Teep’s hips buck, trying to throw them off. Panda straddles them, enduring every blow and returning each in full. The gloves don’t stop the skin underneath getting scraped. Sweat stings their knuckles, their face, hands, chest and arms, fueling the body wide burn.

A crack fractures Teep’s goggles from a punch. Teep doesn’t falter, going right for Panda’s face. Their hand misses the cybernetic eye, landing on Panda’s hair. Their hand latches on, fingers curling.

Panda seizes one arm in a submissive hold, hanging on, even as Teep yanks on their hair. It’s painful, and nobody’s resorted to hair pulling to this degree. Panda ignores how it’s making their eyes water, trying to find the sweet spot by pushing hard, forcing the caught arm to bend in a fashion that it never should.

Crying, Panda’s effort is rewarded by a sickening snap of bone. Teep’s body practically recoils, arching underneath them. Panda can feel it, still hanging onto their broken arm. The hair pulling ceases. Freed from that torture, Panda pants.

Teep doubles over, whether from pain or something else. Dropping the arm, Panda shifts. They stomp on Teep’s chest using their prosthetic leg. Another audible crack follows.

Teep remains on their side. That’d been too easy, far too easy. Panda snatches up Teep’s shield, pocketing it; their own shield got dislodged during the melee match but that’s fine. Panda crouches by Teep, fresh doubt replacing certainty.

This can’t be an imposter. The thought from before about Teep preferring far range combat nags at Panda.

Teep’s chest rises and falls, shallow and quick. Panda lays a careful hand on Teep’s face. Fingers hook into the smooth, bloodied wrappings. A tug brings the thick layers down. All the layers move as one, with startling ease. There’s no painted oxygen mask in place as a second barrier to Teep’s identity. 

Hidden underneath is a bared mouth with teeth grit in pain. Every tooth’s sharpened to a cruel point. The sight overlaps with the face that Panda saw all those years ago, on the day that they fell.

\--

The Tediore manufacturing plant’s a derelict facility. As far as facilities go, it could have been part of something grander, had Tediore not folded to Dahl’s crushing deal. The plant’s grand total of twenty floors was reduced to a pathetic three during the battle for weapon licenses. It didn’t mean that twentieth floor’s strictly off limits or unreachable.

This is where Pyrionflax’s panicking message had brought Panda. Teep’s latest kill is some suited cog in a machine, important in the bigger picture but Panda’s goal remains the same, regardless of target. It’s too late to save the cog, but Pyrionflax’s tip couldn’t have arrived at a better time.

In the time between the investigators swarming all over the crime scene and escape, Teep’s vulnerable. They need to depart as soon as possible and quietly, preferably without witnesses.

Teep made that kill from one of the sighting towers originally used to spot incoming cargo ships. Panda exposes their cybernetic eye to run a trace from the killsite. Pyrionflax’s ongoing live feed of the scene delivered the data packet without a hitch. That’ll make Pyrionflax a possible target, so they’d left the Hecatoncheires on the first transport available (in first class, of course).

On one of the intact towers, Teep’s descending a ladder. Panda crouches behind a crate, finding an Atlas sniper rifle. Parking the barrel on the crate, Panda switches the scope over to their cybernetic eye, letting it work its magic.

Three seconds later, Panda fires one shot. It scores a direct hit on Teep’s back, causing them to flinch and glance in the direction of the shot. They spot Panda. Teep kicks off the ladder, evading the second shot. It’s about ten seconds until they hit the walkway, so that’s ten seconds Panda spends sprinting towards them, pulling out a bladed pistol.

Panda fires, nailing Teep in the hand and legs. Whatever shield Teep has is a remarkable, high end one, boasting a high capacity. The rest of Panda’s shots miss as Teep falls.

Teep hits the walkway at a roll, transitioning into a run. Chasing after them’s like playing a first person game, except that Panda doesn’t have any restarts. They only get one chance. Panda remains on their tail, leaping, vaulting and dodging objects in their haste to catch up with Teep. They reload, never slowing.

Teep’s intent on putting distance between the two of them, as of the past ten confrontations. At first, they’d shot back. After the thirtieth fight, they’d ceased, preferring to run. Maybe they knows it’s pointless to waste bullets on someone as stubborn as Panda.

A well-aimed kick demolishes a fire exit door leading onto a walkway. It stretches between two buildings over an enormous gap with nothing underneath. It’s a ruler straight walkway with no cover whatsoever.

The wind picks up, blowing up through the grating. Panda’s pursuit and Teep’s escape causes the walkway to rock wildly like it’s built out of matchsticks and old rope. The chains wrapped around the joints jar, the noise echoing all around the two.

“Stop running and face me!” Panda yells. They don’t expect Teep to stop. Teep doesn’t, so Panda lifts the pistol and fires nearly all the rounds into Teep’s back. Every shot finds it mark, slamming into them.

Teep stumbles, staying on their feet. Panda fires the last one at Teep’s leg when their eye notes the lapse in blue covering them. The round embeds in Teep’s leg. And now they stop, grabbing onto the railing for support.

Panda says ‘hello’ with a swift punch. Teep deflects it into the railing. Panda follows up with another punch. That’s also blocked. Panda’s never believed in the old adage about snipers not knowing what to do when getting up and personal.

The pain from being shot doesn’t appear to bother Teep. It’s life or death for them; Panda find an opening, stabbing the bladed pistol home. Or would have, if Teep hadn’t slammed their elbow up, redirecting the blade upwards and to the side. Instead of hitting their neck, the blade slices through the face wrappings. The wrappings split apart.

Panda’s eyes lock onto the exposed face underneath. A mouth filled with two rows of sharp teeth grimace at them. The image will haunt Panda for years. 

The endless debates about Teep’s identity and what they looked like sans the goggles and wrappings are entertaining; Panda’s skimmed through a few of the bounty hunter’s forums in their spare time, out of curiosity.

Suffice to say, rumours ranged from ‘robot’ to ‘alien’ to ‘half human’ to ‘god’. What Panda sees is a human who’s been allowed to do as they pleased for far too long and who posed a danger to everyone they came into contact with.

The sight that Teep is human rattles Panda to the core, mesmerizing them. Teep’s hand wrenches Panda’s head forward, bringing Panda’s nose onto a knee. The hit depletes Panda’s shield. Gasping, Panda feels their nose break as it meets bone. Blood sprays onto Teep’s leg and the grating beneath the two. Teep lets go of Panda, delivering a punch of their own.

Compared to before, Teep’s movements are erratic and wild, devoid of careful restraint and deliberation. Panda ignores the pain coming from their nose and face, lashing up with the blade of the pistol. Teep ducks, the blade whooshing over their head. They chop Panda’s leg, across the knee.

Legs aren’t meant to be hit from the side. Collapsing on their other leg, Panda can’t avoid being slammed into the railing from a brutal kick to the ribs. Mouth tasting of rust, Panda coughs. The pistol’s kicked from their hand to plummet over the edge.

Teep abandons the assault, tearing off. Panda staggers upright, leaning on the railing. The railing leaps, disturbed by whatever Teep’s doing. A few seconds later, the walkway shifts, creaking as it leans to the right. Panda tracks a loosened chain flailing through the air. Their eyes snap to the other chain.

Teep’s scaling a ladder. Eyes widening, Panda stares at the last chain unwinding, link by link. Without the other chain, the weight of the walking’s too much for it to bear alone.

Teep turns to watch as the freed walkway drops, taking Panda with it. 

Falling’s nothing new to Panda, but falling to their death is. Panda’s shield returns to full. Even at full, it doesn’t spare them the force of the landing. A pile of rusted waste beneath the walkway scratches into the rest of the shield, depriving it; it also breaks Panda’s fall but not quite. The saving roll Panda attempts is interrupted by landing on one knee.

There’s no fall damage but nobody can walk away from landing on a field of discarded weapons and junk. Panda’s knee breaks first, meeting a metal beam at high speed. The impact disperses from that point, traveling through Panda’s body. It reaches their spine, cracking it, moving onto Panda’s wrist, jumping to their other leg.

Panda’s not sure if they screamed or not, separated from their body by the agonising pain. They’re sprawled atop factory sign, a smattering of new bruises depriving them of speech for a few seconds. The pain keeps them awake.

Glad that they’re no longer falling, Panda remains flat on their back, trying to breathe through their busted nose. Vision fading and blurring from pain, they reach for their ECHO device.

A patchy message’s sent to one Green, serving as a cry for immediate help, and a heartfelt goodbye, should it come to that. They’ll make sure Saberial gets it. Satisfied, Panda succumbs to the pain, dipping into a world free of agony and a looming sense of complete failure.

\--

The person underneath Panda’s trembling. Panda withdraws their hand, a sense of very real relief erasing doubt. If they’d been running after an imposter the entire time, they’d already have shot the fucker and left it at that, prepared to return home with the wrong blood on their hands. If one really thought about it, there’s no such thing as ‘innocent’ blood.

It’s not over yet.

Teep slugs Panda across the face. The sheer force behind the impact’s come from nowhere. Panda hits the ground hard, smashing their funny bone against a rock. Both face and elbow throb nastily, immediately ignored. Panda hastens to grab a weapon to fend off a furious Teep.

Only difference is, the goggles have cracked and split, a faint purple light shining through the hairline gaps. One punch from Panda shatters the lens on the left side. Teep doesn’t recoil or flinch. Even a tougher tank like Saberial wouldn’t have taken the hit without comment. Pieces of the lens fall with nothing holding them together.

The dilated pupil glaring at Panda shines. Surrounding it is a glimmering, nebulous field of clear white and vivid purple fused with an eye. The fusion’s messy, intact eyelid overlaid with scars, delicate darker ribbons of purple wrapping around to sink into the mutilated flesh around it.

It’s clearly an old wound, and one Panda almost empathises with (their own scars not that different), regardless of how disturbing it looks.

The fight continues where it’d left off.

In spite of a broken arm, Teep snatches Panda’s bandolier, yanking them closer. It’s by luck that Panda retaliates with an elbow strike, diverting Teep’s aim. Teeth sink into the flesh by Panda’s neck. Two rows of pointed, viciously curved teeth scrape along the inside of the inflicted wound. Blood gushes from the punctured skin.

It flows hot and heavy, slicking Panda’s shirt and jacket. Panda suppresses a gasp when Teep’s jaw inches shut against their scratched collarbone.

“Get  _ off _ me, you  _ fucking _ dick!” Spitting the curses isn’t helping aside from letting Panda vent their frustration as the panic rises. 

Teep’s going to rip them a new hole. All it’d take is a deliberate, forceful backwards snap of the head. If they’d been aiming for Panda’s neck, that’s not going to matter soon.

Panda’s never let anybody get this close to them before. This is the first time that they’ve been bitten; even the diamond kitten didn’t do this. Teep’s the first to try such a reckless, extreme move.

Disorientating pain licks through Panda’s shoulder, neck and arm, burning the underside of their skin. It ain’t got shit on the traumatising pain from the fall obliterating their kneecap. Panda fights it. It’ll take more than a bite from this fucker to end them.

Even with Panda thrashing, Teep refuses to let go. In desperation, Panda jabs the broken arm. Their jaw snaps down before loosening when the fractured bone is jostled. That split second is the precious opening Panda needs. With a loud ‘fuck’, Panda forcibly shoves Teep backwards like they’re enacting a finishing move.

Finally dislodged, Teep recovers by shifting into a crouch, holding onto their dangling, broken arm. The glow emanating from within the partially destroyed lens pulses twice. It fades with an abruptness that doesn’t match what Panda witnessed a few minutes ago.

Panda raises a defensive hand, ready to go for another round. Teep’s not taking them by surprise this time. They choose to watch Panda with the strange eye. Teep must able to see out of it if they react to attacks on their blind side.

Staying on guard, Panda spares a brief downwards glance to confirm the damage inflicted. Circular dots, each deep enough to slip a fingernail into, ring Panda’s collarbone and shoulder. Blood wells up whenever Panda moves.

They don’t know if Teep caused any significant damage. It’s fortunate it didn’t escalate past that point. Being bitten’s already humiliating, without Teep leaving another mark to remind Panda of this fight.

The two of them are panting, adrenaline absolving any exhaustion. Disarming Teep of guns hadn’t deprived them of another weapon: their body. Interfering with their identity must have set them off. Panda’s not too guilty.

Droplets of blood trickle down Teep’s mouth from their teeth. With their head dipped low, they could have been a statue. Not true; they haven’t stopped trembling ever since Panda saw their face. All Panda needs is to snatch the goggles away to get a full picture of the person they’d been after, all these years.

By the time Teep lifts their head, Panda’s done examining the bite. It’ll heal, with scarring. The trembling’s absent. The calmness emanating from Teep is exactly what Panda feels.

After leaving the hospital, Panda focused on reclaiming their position as one of the top bounty hunters. Once that’d been achieved, there’d been nothing left to do, except keep that rank. That’d gotten boring fast, for someone of Panda’s caliber and skill.

Teep’s the only one who ever got away and delivered a real challenge. When that trail had come through, Panda couldn’t suppress a sense of thrill. It’d slit open the box of whatever emotion Panda had stored after their last reconstructive surgery.

They remember why they loathed Teep. They wouldn't know what trials Panda went through to return to top form, or what they’d had to do. Sometimes, Panda has nightmares of being told that there’s nothing that the doctors could do to save their leg.

“I thought you were an imposter,” Panda confesses.

“Would an imposter have done that?” Teep awkwardly signs with one hand, pointing to the bite wound they’d left.

“No, they wouldn’t have.” A grin finds its way onto Panda’s face. “I’m glad you’re the real deal.” Panda laughs, then quick draws Conference Call to fire it right into Teep’s chest.

Teep doesn’t move or breathe. Their head tilts to consider the bullet wounds on their arm and chest. Panda hadn’t missed; those nine bullets had found their mark.

It’s almost graceful how Teep falls backwards without a sound. Mouth bitter from biting the inside of their cheek, Panda lowers the shotgun, closing their eyes. It’s over. They finally did it. The other bounty hunters described it as ‘the best feeling in the universe’. Panda’s tired. All they want to do is go home.

They haven’t been home in years.

Asking for the bounty on Teep’s head had taken place over ECHO, so Panda didn’t have to confront their mom in person, or visit an old bedroom where they’d spent so long trying to get used to a new leg and a mending body that’ll never be the same.

Confronting the cause of that injury on Pandora has opened up Panda’s eyes that this might not have been worth all the effort. That feeling grew after the lackluster conversation with sheriff Turpster.

It’s still not going away. Frustrated, Panda rises. Conference Call’s reloaded and stored. Panda finds their missing shield by the cave, returning it to its proper place on their belt.

They could hand Teep over to the law to be hanged or perform an execution on the spot (which most bounty hunters disdained, viewing it as a ‘mercy kill’ or ‘an easy cop out’; it also paid less).

Panda summons Johnson to land close by. All that’s left to do is to wait until Johnson arrives.

Teep stays motionless, even when Panda rolls them onto their back. Dark red smears across Panda’s front when they detach the other’s digistruct modules. Peeking into the inventory doesn’t reveal much about Teep, aside from not one, but two coveted legendary sniper rifles, several pistols, other guns, neatly arranged tabs of personal and useless items (like a matchbox), premium rations and an ECHO device.

The screen’s unlocked when Panda tests accessing it. As expected, Teep didn’t have much on their ECHO device. Poking in their contacts revealed nothing, no friends, not even foes or acquaintances. 

It’s another story when Panda tests Teep’s ECHOnet connection. Whatever wipe Teep initiated prior to the duel, they hadn’t bothered including this part.

Entertaining their curiosity, Panda accesses it. To their surprise, a bunch of screens appear. Squinting, Panda picks the oldest to read, scrolling up. It goes back  _ years, _ and Panda doesn’t really get why it’s still on the ECHO device until they hit the first conversation of that particular chat.

Two names jump out at Panda. Their own, ‘GodOfArrows’, and another, which they’d never thought that they’d ever see again: ‘DiNoScope.’

Panda accesses another screen to check access history; the last one had been several minutes before the duel. They pull up two more screens and on their own ECHO device, comparing and cross-checking until they’re sure that there’s no mistake or a fluke at work.

Teep could have stolen this device, but nobody ever found a body or ECHO device that belonged to ‘Green’, or identified the latter’s identity. 

Nobody (except for Saberial) knew what Green looked like. She’s adamant that Green’s alive, but didn’t elaborate. Panda assumed that Green’s ‘death’ hit her hard; they knew that she met Green in real life (which Panda envied), so her bond with them’s never recovered from that blow.

In Panda’s mind, they assemble Saberial’s strange behaviour with this new information, past conversations now making sense. Nilesy, Lomadia, Rythian, Ravs, Pyrionflax, MintyMinute, Zylus–everybody’s actions link together, forming one giant web of lies to deceive Panda.

Panda despawns the ECHO devices, crouching by Teep. They shake Teep on the arm. Right now, Panda is terrified, not wanting to believe it. All the evidence keeps stacking and piling, pointing to one conclusion that they can’t ignore.

“Hey!” Teep barely twitches, their left eye opening to hollowly stare at Panda. “Are you DiNoScope?” 

Panda watches as Teep’s hand slowly flexes. Their index finger extends. Blood coats that finger. They use that same finger to draw a shape on the ground. Panda stares at the shaky ‘Y’ they’d drawn.

They grab Teep by the shoulders. Teep’s eye closes. “Green! Stay with me! Please, you can’t die, I–why didn’t you  _ tell _ me?” Teep’s hand falls open.

The moon is high in the sky, watching a crying Panda scream at a still body.

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

Saberial: I’m back! Lalnable’s not happy about getting so many patients in one day. Hey, the heeting’s about to start, so we should head up soon. Zoeya, have you seen Teep? They’re not answering their ECHO device. I can’t find them anywhere. Zoeya–why are you crying?

Zoeya: They’re not here anymore, and I don’t think they’re coming back.

Saberial: What? Why?

Zoeya: I don’t know how to tell you, but I have a really, really bad feeling–

Saberial: Zoeya, did they go to fight Panda?

Zoeya: I didn't want them to leave, but it looked liked that they had their mind made up–I’m sorry, Saberial, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop them!

Saberial: Shh, let’s dry your face.

Zoeya: Please tell me that they’ll stop once they realise they don’t have to fight.

Saberial: I don’t know if they will.

Zoeya: We have to go and stop them!

Saberial: We don’t know where they’re fighting!

Zoeya: We could ask! Someone’s bound to know something!

Saberial: Let me ask Flax–hold on, I got a message.

Zoeya: Who is it? What’s it say?

Saberial: …

Zoeya: Saberial, what’s wrong?

Saberial: I–I need to sit down.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s an epilogue that’s a part of chapter four. it’s been split up to make sense for the story. please hop to the next chapter to finish reading, and for author’s notes!


	5. epilogue.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> – / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –  
> but wait, there’s more. here, have a tissue. 
> 
> this is the story of how an ex-vault hunter and a bounty hunter reconcile, but with words instead of bullets.  
> – / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

A beep trickles into Teep’s residual awareness. There shouldn’t have been anything registering, let alone sound. This isn’t what they want. With gargantuan effort, Teep wakes. Their left eye’s still partially useless in its half-blinded state. Their right eye is still perfectly functional. 

The source of the beeping noise is a monitor. Coloured wires from its front hang down from the trolley, looping upwards to connect to Teep’s arm. A plain plastic clip attaches to one of Teep’s fingers, measuring and reporting their pulse. An IV bag dangles on a metal stand, the other end feeding into the same arm. Clear liquid is all that it contains.

Cool air circulates through the room. Disliking it, Teep reaches up to fix their hood out of habit, hand touching skin instead–nothing’s covering their face, eyes, hands, head or chest. Abject terror wrestles with logic for half a minute.

There’s no threats, the room is secure, and nobody’s looking at them. Repeating the checklist makes the severe panic fade, abating when Teep releases the sheets from a death grip.

Beside them, the monitor tracks the faint uptick in heartbeat, storing it for an unknown purpose. Teep watches the line settle back into a normal pattern. They turn their attention back to the rest of the room, drawing information by sight.

This is a room in a clinic. They’ve been here before. A drawn curtain conceals the door from view. Between the bars of the window, the night presses against the tinted glass. It provides no clues as to how long Teep’s been asleep. It’s irrelevant, because Teep concludes that it’s unfortunate that they’re still alive.

Panda couldn’t finish the job. They must have figured out what Teep had done years ago. In that case, Teep’s going to have to do the job themself. Their digistruct modules are on the other side of the room, along with their bloody gloves and the remains of their jacket.

Before moving, Teep performs a basic self assessment. Aside from still being alive, they’re down one arm for the time being. 

That arm’s wrapped in a splint and cloth. An item’s pressing against the bone underneath the skin there. Their other arm’s linked to the monitor and IV drip. It’s still useable, if they’re careful about the few stitches patterning it. 

Puncture marks from an Anshin syringe pepper their upper arm, visible through the tiny spot bandages. Black and blue tattoo the skin around those.

Attempting to sit up’s foiled by a heaviness that rolls beneath Teep’s chest, like someone’s grabbed their lungs and is holding them in position while the rest of Teep’s body moves around it. It vanishes when Teep stays down. The monitor dutifully records the struggles. Ignoring it, Teep tries again. They barely succeed, peeling back the sheet hiding their chest.

Old scars are overlaid with brand new ones, black sinking into the skin. It has all the hallmarks of a professional’s work all over it. More bruises decorate their whole body. A constricting layer of clean bandages wind around their lower abdomen. Teep wants to get rid of it; it feels too much like a binder.

Dry blood coats their pants; the person who’d worked on them had been in a rush if they hadn’t bothered with a change of clothes. They’d also wiped off whatever blood they could.

The door opens and closes when Teep gets a hand around the IV drip stand, preparing to stand. 

“Please don’t move yet.” Lalnable moves around the bed, towards Teep. “You’ve just been through intensive surgery. Frankly, I expected you to be out for another few hours.”

Under his watchful gaze, Teep takes their hand off the stand. They remain sitting upright, watching Lalnable check the monitor. He checks the IV drip and the clip without touching Teep.

“Lie down.” Teep doesn’t move, continuing to stare down Lalnable. Lalnable sighs. “Fine, it’s your choice.” He pulls a chair over, settling onto it. A clipboard appears in his hand. “Would you like to hear how the surgery went?” A nod answers him. He flips a page. “I removed an astounding number of bullets from your chest. The damage to your abdomen’s fairly extensive, but I did my best. I used a few Anshin syringes to stop you from bleeding out. There should be minimal complications. Any questions so far?” 

Teep shakes their head.

He notices Teep’s gaze flick to their broken arm. “That fracture will take several weeks to heal. The brace is to stop you from antagonising it out of position.” Whatever extra comment he’d intended to make dies when he sees Teep’s emotionless expression. “Your arm will heal,” He gently says, mistaking the lack of reaction as distress.

Teep closes their eyes.

“In my professional opinion, it’s a miracle that you’re still alive.” Lalnable despawns the clipboard. “It’s an even bigger miracle that you can sharpshoot with that left eye of yours.”

The slight turn of Teep’s head has them opening both eyes to keep staring down Lalnable.

An empty jar spawns in Lalnable’s hands, along with a well worn stack of printouts. “The courier picked this up just outside Sanctuary Hole, where Zoeya’s packages are usually dropped off. She wouldn’t be the type to send this. Was it you?”

Teep nods.

“Research isn’t a big interest of mine, but the information in this could potentially be useful in removing the shards from Rythian’s back.”

There’s no response from Teep, merely a slow, steady inhale and exhale.

“I could do the same for your eye.”

A shake of the head shuts down Lalnable’s proposal.

“I see. I’ll prioritise Rythian, but really, feel free to lie down if you’re tired.” Lalnable despawns the jar and papers. He turns to see what they’re now staring at. “I can’t give you your modules back until I’m sure that you’re not going to kill yourself.”

That earns a stony glare. Without the goggles, Teep’s glare is on the same level as Lomadia’s. He raises a lone finger as their hand stretches out towards the IV drip stand to grip it, knuckles shaking.

“I’ll return them to you once you get better, and  _ then _ you can kill yourself at your own leisure, preferably _ away _ from my clinic.” The glare remains trained on him. Lalnable inwardly sighs. “I define ‘better’ as being able to walk.” Leaving the smug note out of his voice, he adds, “You can barely sit up. What makes you think you can walk?”

Teep shoves off the sheets, preparing to get out of the bed. Lalnable’s instantly in front of them, blocking them from standing. He hangs onto the stand so it doesn’t fall, watching Teep find their feet.

They ignore his offered hand, making it onto both feet before exhausting themself, sitting down. The inability to do so infuriates them, their jaw set. Threatening them with a tranquilizer’s bound to incite a bad reaction. They’re also currently dosed with painkillers.

“Very impressive,” He dryly comments, refraining from adding ‘I told you so’ with an exasperated sigh. When he’s sure that they won’t try that again, he crosses the room to collect Teep’s digistruct modules. 

He does leave them their ECHO device, cracked goggles, face wrappings, a clean shirt and a new jacket. Other personal items join it. A spare blanket’s retrieved from a cupboard. The neat pile’s set at the foot of the bed in arm’s reach.

“Thanks,” Teep weakly signs.

“The bounty hunter who brought you here’s still waiting for you to wake up. I’ll tell them you’re still asleep.” Lalnable pauses to stash Teep’s digistruct modules into a lab coat pocket. “If you need anything else, ECHO me.” 

He helps them slip into a shirt and jacket, temporarily undoing the sling, plus stopping the IV drip and monitor. As he leaves, he spares one last glance to see Teep unfolding the extra blanket, draping it over their head to hide under it.

\--

Panda’s almost nodding off when Lalnable appears in the hallway. The high and shock of the duel’s left Panda wondering if they’d just fucked themself over in sparing Teep. They can’t kill Teep. They just can’t.

The last time Panda saw Teep had been moving their unconscious form onto an operating table; Lalnable had kicked Panda out, immediately getting ready for emergency surgery.

A few other people are in the main clinic area, dozing and chatting amongst themselves. Two railroad workers fall into the latter category, one sporting a bandage across one shoulder. The other helps them drink from a glass of water. 

Nobody had seen Panda carry Teep in. After returning to their ship to do basic first aid and some other things, Panda picked a waiting room chair to hunker down on, waiting for Lalnable to finish the operation.

The pins and legs hitting Panda when they stand nearly downs them but they anxiously await Lalnable’s news. “Well? How did it go?”

“The operation was a success,” Lalnable informs Panda, smiling. “There were a couple of close calls, but they’re alive. Sleeping, but alive.”

A feeling that Panda describe (consisting of relief and hope) fills their chest. “Thank you.” They peer down the hallway. “Can I see them?”

“Not now, but you should pass on the news.” Lalnable’s smiles fades into a stern look. “People will want to know what happened.”

Panda pulls out a wallet. “How much do I also owe you?”

“Whatever you can pay,” Lalnable barely finishes saying when Panda to press a massive wad of bills into his hand. A quick count reveals roughly ten thousand dollars. “If this is from Teep’s bounty, I can’t accept it.”

“I’m not handing over any bounty money, but running a clinic’s probably expensive, right?” Panda rubs the back of their head. “I can pay more, if that’s–”

“No, this is quite enough.” Lalnable carefully puts away the money. “It’ll also cover your own treatment.”

“I’m fine,” Panda automatically says.

“If you two were trying to achieve mutually assured destruction, you both almost succeeded.” Lalnable’s expression turns severely disapproving. It reminds Panda of Saberial when she’d discovered Panda stealing her snacks.

“Alright.” Lalnable leads Panda into a clinic room. It’s not the same room he’d used for surgery, being one room over. Without being told to, Panda sheds their jacket, shirt and bandolier, hopping onto the bench to sit there.

Lalnable attends to Panda’s own injuries, applying an Anshin syringe and disinfecting the scratches and cuts. He peels back the bandages on Panda’s shoulder. Lalnable drops the forceps and bloody bandages to stare, open-mouthed, at the bite wound.

“It looks  _ really _ bad, but it’ll probably be okay,” Panda assures. “I patched it up in my ship while waiting for you.”

“In all my time here, I’ve never seen–” Muttering, Lalnable examines the mess. Panda stays still, wanting to avoid being told off. “You did a decent job attending to this, but really!” 

“Will I need stitches?” Panda guesses.

“That depends on what you’re going to do.” Lalnable doesn’t ask where and how Panda got the wound.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Are you going to barge into another fight after this?” That’s a blunt question, and one that Panda didn’t consider.

Panda opens their mouth to respond with a ‘no’, then shuts it. “I don’t know.” They nearly shrug, only to remember that it’ll hurt and stop. “Probably.”

“Alright.” Lalnable’s brow creases. “Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll wash the wound and put on a covering that’ll let it breathe, but please, try not to aggravate it.”

“That basically means don’t get any shit on or in it, right?” Panda’s a little disappointed at the lack of stitches. The assortment of bandages and bruises on their face, chest and arms make up for it, though.

“Yes, and change it regularly. I’ll write up some notes for you, and give you some extra bandages and items that’ll help.” Lalnable continues his work.

“Thanks again.” Panda and Lalnable don’t talk much after that. 

\--

– / / NOW PLAYING ECHO LOG. / / –

HybridPanda: Rythian and Ravs, right?

Ravs:  _ You. _

Rythian: Ravs! Stop! Put them down!

Ravs: You nearly killed Teep!

HybridPanda: …

Ravs:  _ Why _ did you nearly kill Teep?

Rythian: Ravs! You’ll break their neck!

Ravs: Ouch!

HybridPanda: Shit, man, if you want someone to answer your question, let them fucking breathe. Sorry about nearly busting your fingers.

Ravs: You give me one good reason why I shouldn’t beat you into a bloody pulp.

Rythian: It’ll make a mess of Lalnable’s floor?

HybridPanda: I’m Teep’s best friend. Well, former. Dunno if they still feel that way about me.

Ravs: I don’t believe you. Best friends don’t kill each other.

HybridPanda: See, it’s a pretty funny story.

Ravs: But you’re not laughing.

HybridPanda: I was being sarcastic.

Rythian: I think you should start from the beginning.

HybridPanda: Was just about to.

Ravs: Start talking.

– / / NOW ENDING ECHO RECORDING. / / –

\--

Knocking on Teep’s door lets them know there’s incoming visitors. Getting everything on takes far too much effort, and Teep’s short on energy after trying to stand, and getting dressed.

They slump down onto their side, using the pillow as temporary cover. Three sets of footsteps enter, rounding the corner past the curtain dangling from the ceiling. Teep knows the first set of feet. 

Lalnable peeks at them without lifting the pillow. Satisfied that they’re not suffocating themself, he draws back. “Awake. That’s a very good sign.” That comment’s for whoever’s accompany him. “I’ll leave you three alone.”

The second set of footsteps circles the bed, approaching Teep from the same side. Ravs appears in Teep’s peripheral vision, looking extraordinarily worried. “Teep!”

Their dogtags bounce off his chest. Teep’s eyes flick from them to Ravs’ face. He crouches by the bed so that he’s at eye level. Teep turns their head, lessening their hold on the pillow to do so. Ravs has already seen their face, so they’re fine with him seeing it again.

They mouth at him, “Hi.” They switch to signing, “Don’t you start blubbering.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Ravs lies, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“I’m still here.”

“What did you do to yourself?” Ravs takes one of Teep’s bare hands, tutting softly. The shock of sudden skin contact has Teep yanking their hand away. Ravs lets his sheepishness show in a soft grin. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s fine.”

“Rythian, you want to come a little closer?”

Rythian clears his throat to let them know where he’s standing. He’s by the foot of the bed, keeping in mind that Teep doesn’t want him to see their face. “I’m fine standing here.”

“No, no, sit down. Your back still isn’t good.” Ravs disappears from Teep’s view, moving a chair over to Rythian. Rythian sits down.

Teep picks up the goggles. The lens might be broken but there’s still some life left in it to hook up to their ECHO device.

> i thought you two had a meeting to go to

“We wanted to check up on you first, after getting Panda’s message,” Rythian explains in a tone that’s far too calm; he’s hiding his current emotions. It makes him sound wooden, like he’s reading off a script. “We thought that you, well.” He must be be making a gesture since Teep doesn’t hear anything for a second. “Died.”

> lbr i was intending to

“Panda told us everything.” Rythian coughs.

> i figured but it probably explains a lot of my behaviour

> sorry for not telling you two anything

“No, it’s fine!” Ravs interjects. “It was a pretty compelling story. I’m amazed you kept it all a secret.” He lowers his voice. “Are you going to talk to Panda?”

> i

> dont

> know

There’s a beat of silence where Ravs and Rythian share a look. Teep can’t put the pillow down to check what kind of look it is.

“That’s your decision, but Rythian wanted to talk to you about something else.” Ravs shifts, the bed creaking; he must be leaning on the frame.

> abt what 

“Xephos and Pyrionflax finally found what Sjin’s really up to.” Rythian pauses. “I have a plan that I’m going to reveal at the meeting.” Paper rustles; Ravs reappears, handing Teep a piece of paper. Teep takes it, scanning the drawing and scribblings. They hand it back to Ravs. Ravs returns it to Rythian. “What do you think?”

It’s kind of cute of how he sounds anxious about seeking Teep’s approval.

> youll all be doing us a really really big favor in offing her off

> fuck you know what i mean

> punch sjin for me will you

“It’s probably a stupid plan, and a lot could go wrong,” Rythian hastily says. 

“I’ll do the punching,” Ravs adds, with a note of sadistic relish.

> you could fail and all of us die

“I don’t think failure’s an option,” Rythian lightly points out.

> so dont fail

“Either you believe in this plan or you’re being sarcastic,” He observes.

> shrug

> you remember what i told you after we reunited

> you keep that in mind

> hint its the bit about not dying

> you got a solid plan

> im sorry i cant be a part of it

“You stay here and rest up. It’ll be fine.” Rythian’s uncertainty doesn’t earn a comment.

“I’ll be with him, so don’t you worry about a thing.” Ravs laughs. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“We’d better go. The sooner we can leave, the better.” Rythian stands, the chair creaking.

> btw did you enjoy my present yet

“No,” Rythian bluntly says. Teep can feel the look he’s giving him. He must have opened the book already. Teep hides a smirk.

> also can i talk to ravs privately

“Sure.” Rythian doesn’t sound suspicious at all, leaving the room. The door closes.

Teep shoves off the pillow, pushing their goggles aside. Ravs moves to help them sit up. Teep gestures for him to come close, declining his help. Seeing them in pain’s unreal, and an admission that Teep completely trusts him to let it show.

“What’s wrong?” Ravs leans in. “Oh, here, these belong to you.” He moves to remove the dog tags; Teep shakes their head.

“Hang onto them for luck,” Teep signs. “Ravs, you need to keep a close eye on Rythian. Do  _ not _ let Rythian get hurt.” They slash the air to emphasise the ‘not’, which is out of character.

“Why?”

They gesture to their left eye. “This did a weird thing during my fight with Panda. It’ll probably happen to Rythian too. I managed to stop mine. I don’t know if Rythian can do the same.”

“What exactly is it?” Ravs pulls out the matchbox they’d gifted him. He hasn’t shown Rythian, fearing that Rythian wouldn’t like it. The matchbox is opened. He points to the clean shard. “Is it related to this? One started glowing brightly earlier, then randomly stopped before I could get a closer look.”

“I don’t know, but that shard’s the one I pulled out of my face years ago.” Teep points. “The other one’s from Rythian’s back, which you extracted.” Teep glances right at him. “It’s nothing good, knowing her.”

“I remember. I thought you got rid of all the shards.” 

“I kept a couple, just in case. The rest are with Lalnable so he can do some research on them.”

“Ah. That explains why I never got my jar back.” 

“You can ask for the jar back from him, it’s now empty.”

“Later.” Ravs raises an eyebrow. “Also, her?”

“Yeah, her.” Teep replaces their pillow back under their head; Ravs moves to fluff it up for them. They punch Ravs in the arm to stop him; the force lacks the usual impact behind it. He already misses it. “I kept them because I thought it’d be useful.”

Ravs returns the matchbox to his inventory, setting it so that it’s visible in his HUD. He grins, trying not to let his unease at seeing Teep in such a state show. “Can I get a goodbye kiss?”

“No.” Teep’s real, deadpan hundred yard stare makes him laugh, if that’s the look they've always been giving him for all the flirting.

“How about a good luck one?” Ravs persists, with a wink.

“Go fuck yourself, Ravs,” Teep signs, flipping him the middle finger.

Ravs laughs. Giving Teep one of his crushing hugs is get him told off by Lalnable, so Ravs tones it down. Even if Teep can’t quite return it, they still allow the hug. They make do with a pat to his shoulder. 

“We’ll come back,” He swears, laying a hand on the borrowed dogtags.

“I know you will,” Teep signs, against his back. He doesn’t have to see the motions to know what they’re singing. He’s reluctant to end the hug until Teep pointedly nudges his shoulder.

Teep watches as he leaves. 

Back in the Vault on Elpis, their fragmented vision of a possible future had ended in Lynchwood, of them facing down Panda. It didn’t continue after that. What changed it? Not sure of the answer there, Teep rubs at the dark circles underneath their right eye.

One thing’s sure, though. They need to talk to Panda. Teep relays a message to Panda, using their ECHO device to do so.

> im awake

> lets talk

\--

Ravs and Rythian depart. At a glance, Ravs seems less likely to rip Panda’s head off, and Rythian doesn’t seem as lost. Saberial and Zoeya would like to drop by, but are busy at the meeting. Panda should probably turn up, but they wanted to stay behind to talk to Teep. 

Teep’s message has Panda’s stomach doing nervous flips and turns. Teep actually wants to  _ talk. _ Panda’s first instinct is to get back in their ship and fly elsewhere. There’s good talks, okay talks, and bad talks. They’re not sure which one Teep wants to have. The message left quite a lot of room to the imagination.

Panda finds Lalnable in the kitchen and politely asks to see Teep. Lalnable’s skeptical until Teep’s message is shared. After giving a detailed talk about not killing or harming any of his other patients, Lalnable permits Panda entry to Teep’s room.

Lalnable goes in first. There’s a one-sided conversation that lasts for a minute. Lalnable leaves Panda alone, closing the door after they enter.

The room Teep’s occupying is small, set on the far end of the clinic. A thick curtain separates the door and the centre of the room. Panda steps around the curtain, prepared for the worst.

Teep’s sitting up in the bed, hugging their broken arm close to their body. They’re wearing a different jacket to the one that Panda had last seen them in. The fur-lined hood’s down.

Panda wants to laugh. Teep looks extremely bored, but they also want to cry because Teep looks too exhausted, doubly so because of the marks of surgery and the fight combined leaves them looking burnt out. Surviving’s costing them.

After seeing them so many times with the face wrappings, the current sight bothers Panda. The goggles stay constant; Panda can’t help but think of them as Teep’s last failsafe to guard their identity. Though the damaged lens, the alert, purple eye gazes at Panda.

It’s too late to retreat. Panda ends up at the foot of the bed. This is the closest they two have ever physically been without a weapon or a knife to close the gap.

“Hi,” Panda mumbles. The strap of their eyepatch itches, at the back of their head. They readjust it to give their hands something to do.

Talking without any sort of murderous intent getting in the way’s strange, but it could have been far stranger. If this were a badly written fic, they’d be all over each other by now; neither of them are into that.

“Hi,” Teep gestures.

They point to an empty chair beside them. They remember the state of Panda’s leg. Post-fight, Panda’s leg didn’t need another calibration, even if it got hit enough times make it painfully seize up later.

Panda takes the chair, letting their fidgeting hands settle in the pockets of their jacket. An odd silence forms, neither comfortable nor awkward. Teep won’t stop staring at Panda. Panda’s not used to be peered at so closely.

“I always wondered what you looked like under there,” Panda comments. This wasn’t how they ever expected to meet ‘Green’ either. They just wish it was under different, less strained circumstances.

Teep raises a finger to point to themself. “We met once before, without all this stuff covering my face.”

“I don’t remember,” Panda admits, after spending thirty seconds of trying.

To Panda’s surprise, Teep utters a short, silent laugh, smirking after. All those teeth are still wickedly sharp, intimidating in their own way. “Remember the mall chase where we ran into each other? And the stranger you annoyed for directions?”

Panda stares. That memory’s nearly faded. They nearly knock the chair over, making Teep’s hands twitch at the sound. “That was  _ you?” _ Panda hisses, remembering to keep their voice down.

Entirely poker faced, Teep gestures ‘correct’ by pulling off a one-handed fingergun. They laugh again, a hand hiding their mouth. “I still couldn’t believe you fucking fell for that.”

“I was so  _ close _ to finding you.” Panda fixes the chair before flopping onto it, rubbing the back of their head. This is going rather well, for two people who initially tried to murder each other on sight. “Hey, I, uh, bought this for you.” A package’s digistructed. They pass it over to Teep, carefully leaving it on the bed by them.

Teep automatically reaches for their belt; they stop, dropping their hand. Panda bites the inside of their cheek to stop a giggle at how annoyed Teep looks. “Doc took my modules and knives.”

“I gotcha.” Panda expertly splits the tape open with their own knife. Teep sticks their hand into the box, removing a new pair of goggles. “You missed our birthday a couple of months ago.”

“Our birthday?” Teep gives Panda a dry look doubling as a inquisitive one.

Panda chuckles. “You forgot! We agreed to share a birthday, since you still don’t know yours.”

This strikes a chord with Teep. For the first time since Panda began talking to them, Teep mildly frowns. It makes them look pissed. “I didn’t think you still kept track.”

“I know you’re not big about birthdays so if you don’t want to think of this as a pressie, then it’s to replace the goggles I wrecked,” Panda explains, hoping that it’ll change Teep’s mind about accepting it.

“I didn’t get you anything.” Still frowning, Teep leaves the new goggles sitting on their lap. They touch the goggles on their face, smirking. Panda doesn’t like that smirk. “Got it. Take a good, long, hard look. You’re only going to see this once.”

“It’s not your dick, is it?” Panda blurts before they can help themself. 

Teep gives another silent laugh. “Do you really  _ want _ to see my dick?”

“Let’s wait until the third date,” Panda purrs, in the best imitation of Ravs’ sultry voice.

“Did the fight count as a date?”

“Yes? It was the best date I’ve ever had.”

“You fucking wish. No, this is something far better, and very intimate. I’ve only shown this to three people, tops.” Teep wriggles the fingers of their hand. “Ready?” Panda nods. Teep pushes up their goggles, exposing the rest of their face. They count ten seconds before replacing the goggles with the new set. “Now that’s something you can’t forget in a hurry.” The smug way they sign’s exactly like their old self before it fades.

“You could say that again,” Panda whispers, fighting a blush. “That was way better than a dick.”

“My face is worth a thousand dicks,” Teep signs with no change of expression whatsoever.

Panda stifles a surprised laugh with a hand. “Nah, I’d say about eight hundred dicks, not a thousand,” Panda objects. “I’m the one with the face worth a thousand dicks!”

“Ditch the tacky eyepatch, and maybe you’ll be worth nine hundred, max.”

“The eyepatch stops shit from getting into it!”

“You could wear a monocle.”

“A monocle?” Panda’s fingers form an ‘o’, which is held up to their good eye. “Like Zylus?”

The two think about it for a moment. Teep concludes, “On second thought, don’t.”

“No, you’re right. Maybe it’s time to update my style.” Panda drags a clawed hand through their hair. It continues to stick up after, in its usual spikes. “Maybe I should do something about my hair first.”

“Dye your hair.”

“You think I  _ dye _ my hair?” Panda smirks. “Joke’s on you, this here’s all natural!” Teep doesn’t sign anything. “You’re not gonna ask me to prove it?”

“You can’t fake hair that white.”

“Shave it all off.”

“No! I actually like my hair!” Panda gestures to Teep’s own hair. “If I do something with mine, you gotta do something with yours too.”

“How about I shave the sides down?” Teep feels through their own, short hair. Theirs looks neater in comparison to Panda’s. “I’ve always wanted to try that.”

“You actually want to try it?” Panda turns their head to the side, giving Teep a proper look at their own hair. “Do it. It feels nice in summer.”

“I haven’t done anything to my hair in ten years.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“It’s not like people are going to see it.” Teep shrugs with one shoulder. “Even if they did, people forget my face way too easily.”

“I did, but that’s ‘cause I’m just stupid,” Panda says. “Do it for yourself.”

“You’re not stupid, you pretty much kept figuring out where and when I was going to do a hit almost half the time.” Teep adds, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s ‘cause Flax was helping me.” Panda’s downplaying their own role in the hunts out of modesty. 

“Flax just gave coordinates.  _ You _ turned up,” Teep insists. ”You kept holding your own against me.”

“I got lucky.” Panda waves a hand. “This time, it seemed like you wanted me to win anyway.”

“Am I really talking to John? John’s a lot more conceited.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, Green,” Panda laughs.

“That’s more like it.” Teep points to Panda’s shoulder. “Sorry for biting you, by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Panda automatically says. “You were pretty keen on not dying.” They chuckle, softly. “I’m glad you didn’t die.” More seriously, they ask, “Why did you want me to kill you?”

“You’re the only person I know who could do it.” Teep forms a gun with their fingers and fires it into their head. They drop it, and their hand onto the blanket.

“Wait, wait, loads of people have killed you,” Panda points out. “That guy Ravs could have done it when you two first met.” Ravs and Rythian had shared their own tale of how they met Teep.

“Rythian wouldn’t let him.” Teep appears to sigh, shoulders slumping. “I’ve fought too many people who claimed to be the best, and none of them could even scratch me. Nothing on this planet could put a scratch on me.” It saddens Panda that like them, Teep could never find a suitable challenge. That’s another thing they share in common. Panda finds a little comfort in this fact.

“So I was the only person around who stood a fair chance.” Panda’s expression turns remorseful. “If you’d told me you were ‘Green’ earlier, then I wouldn’t have done it.”

“That’s why I had to make you think I killed ‘Green’, so that you couldn’t know that we’re the same person.” The logic makes sense.

“Saberial knew. Everyone knew.” Panda pulls a face, hating themself for being blind to that realisation until it’d been too late. “You played me.”

“They all figured it out on their own. I never told them anything.” Teep’s hand curls in the blanket. “Saberial didn’t want us to fight, so she did some meddling on the side.”

“That’s like her, alright. I was too caught up trying to kill you to ever stop and think about it. If I had, I would have–” Panda chokes. “I wouldn’t have hurt you so  _ badly.” _

Teep’s expression remains blank. “You didn’t kill me even when I wanted you to.”

“How bad is it?” Panda indicates Teep’s eyes. “Is it that bad that you want to  _ die?” _

“It used to be,” Teep signs. “But then I met all these people who kept calling themselves my ‘friend’, which I didn’t like at first, but they grew on me, so I ended up sticking around longer than planned.”

“No wonder it took you ages to draw me out. That map that Flax had. That was you too?”

“Yeah.” Teep leans back. “Flax passed it on to get you to come to Pandora.”

“Do you still want me to kill you?” Panda can’t conceal the flash of distress crossing over their face. If it’s what Teep wants, though…

“Honestly? Yes.” Teep holds up a hand when Panda opens their mouth to protest, tilting their head. “However, now that I’ve met you, I need to stick around to make sure that you don’t beat yourself up for fucking up.”

“Yeah, you can’t die!” Panda sounds and looks miffed. “There’s too many things I got to do with you, show you all the cool stuff you’ve missed, and everyone’ll probably be glad you’re back–”

“You really did miss me.” The corner of Teep’s mouth twitches, like they want to laugh.

“Yeah, I did. Sis, did, too. Loads of people did. Or do. Whatever the fucking grammatically correct term is.” Teep frowns. “You seem surprised.”

“I don’t know why people like a chronically depressed, mute sharpshooter with major sleep and personality issues.” If Teep’s being sarcastic, Panda chooses to ignore it.

“You know why? ‘cause you’re cool.” Panda nods, brightening. “Really cool. You should get back online, I’ll pay for your thing too.”

“That can all wait.” Teep shifts, pushing the blanket off their legs. They move to the edge of the bed, slipping their feet into the boots placed there.

“There’s all this stuff about a Vault opening, isn’t there?They’re supposed to be be the end of the universe.” Panda moves to see if they can help.

“The one Sjin wants to open is one of the most dangerous ones. Rythian knows more about it than I do.”

“I guess we’d better go and find Rythian, then.”

“He’s at a meeting in Sanctuary Hole. Looks like I’ll be showing up fashionably late,” Teep signs.

“I’ll help you get there,” Panda volunteers.

Teep pauses, staring at Panda, as if they didn’t expect them to want to help. Teep carefully tucks their face wrappings back into place, as with their hood. They can’t do much about the broken arm or hide it, so it stays where it is. Panda will gladly punch anybody who gives Teep any trouble over it. 

The two fistbump before Teep ECHOs Lalnable. Lalnable frowns in disapproval at the sight of Teep out of bed. “I said you weren’t allowed to leave until you could walk,” Lalnable states, hovering by Teep’s elbow.

“You didn’t exactly specify ‘with’ or ‘without’ assistance,” Teep responds. “Take these tubes out of me, I need to go to Sanctuary Hole.” When Lalnable doesn’t do anything, Teep signs, “If you don’t take these tubes out, I’ll do it myself.”

“I hardly think–”

“Look, I’ll watch over them,” Panda butts in. “I swear, on my tenth eye and leg.”

“Fine, but if anything happens, you’re entirely responsible.” Lalnable gives up, knowing from experience that arguing sense into stubborn people’s not going to work. He removes the plastic clip and tubes, bandaging up the sites. 

Teep doesn’t flinch, pulling on gloves and fixing their jacket sleeve. “I need my modules back too, doc.”

“Here, but this does  _ not _ mean you can still shoot yourself on the premises.” Lalnable tosses them at Panda, who catches them. 

“Change of plans, that can also wait.” Teep takes them from Panda, clipping them to their belt. A shield powers up when it’s added.

Panda tries not to hungrily stare at the flash of orange denoting the shield’s quality. To think that they’d been this close to owning it too, if Teep had really died. Panda shakes their head to get rid of that horrible thought.

“Take care,” Lalnable bids as he also hands a care package over. “I expect you back here after that meeting!”

Stuffing the care package into their inventory, Teep doesn’t tell Lalnable that they have no intention of returning to the clinic.

Panda shows them into Johnson. Ducking through the hatch, Teep appears to laugh at Johnson’s full name. They sit on Panda’s bloodstained cot. They also comment on the sorry state of Panda’s messy ship quarters. Panda defensively responds that they didn’t have time to clean up, and half the blood on the cot’s their fault.

“Well, excuse me, your highness,” Teep flippantly signs. Panda laughs, lifting Johnson into the air, directing the ship towards Sanctuary Hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (and in the end, i think you’re my best friend)
> 
> this concludes ‘a bullet with your name on it’ and it took a long time to reach this point but we’re here! this couldn’t have happened without polishingopals, teagstime, doublearrows and siins. thank you. 
> 
> chronologically, this chapter takes place right after c13 of ‘tlvh’. the most important thing in this chapter to note: nilesy finally got his cat.
> 
> only joking. i have a lot of thoughts regarding panda, teep and their arcs. let’s talk about teep’s arc first. chronologically, teep’s story picks up in ‘tlvh’ in their first appearance. i hinted about their own reasons for running to pandora, and gradually peeled that back in later chapters, and finally explored that in this fic.
> 
> ravs and teep did bone! i guess you could say that ravs’ ‘hug’ isn’t necessarily the kind of hug you’d expect. this is deeply ironic considering teep doesn’t experience sexual attraction,but still enjoys the frick frack. compare that to panda, who doesn’t experience that either, and is fairly neutral towards the diddly do. ravs and teep’s relationship doesn’t change one bit at all. if anything, it hits harder for ravs when he wakes up to find teep missing, and their gifting him the precious dogtags. and the matchboxes.
> 
> teep kept the eridium shards because they felt like it’d be important; they know what they really are, and entrusted panda with the sole duty of killing them. this served two purposes: giving panda the closure panda needs, and to fulfil teep’s final wish in dying.
> 
> teep’s not a monster in any way because of their struggles with depression and ptsd; their own burdens were a part of them prior to their encounter in the vault. what happens with the shards is a direct product of that. the same goes for rythian.
> 
> the shards are important to the story, as teep explains to ravs. it’ll become relevant in ‘tlvh’. there have been many hints as to what rythian is, scattered throughout the stories. i’ll elaborate when the time comes.
> 
> teep’s arc is about running, and what happens to them when they stop running. for a long, long time, teep’s been treading water. thing is, teep will never, ever commit suicide, but they aren’t above seeking death through other means. they’re at their lowest point when lalnable resuscitates them, and are contemplating the idea. fortunately, lalnable succeeds in convincing them to hang in there. later, teep talks themself out of the idea by finding other things to hang onto.
> 
> teep is one of the trickiest characters to write. they are wonderfully complex, but i try to keep consistent their sense of humour, a offhanded manner of showing compassion, a healthy dose of intimidation and some double-edged pride, plus the one vision that kept teep alive through everything else. this vision? motivated teep to keep going in spite of knowing that they’re moving towards their death.
> 
> panda’s arc focuses on loss, grief, reconciliation and revenge. panda is primarily concerned on chasing, while teep’s is running away. the two finally meet when the two of them cease to do just that. panda’s own anger blinds them to the obvious conclusion until they peek into teep’s echo device. they even openly admit this to teep. they never stopped missing or grieving green.
> 
> panda shares a lot of personality traits with teep, and also, are on the same skill level as teep. panda generally doesn’t take off the eyepatch. they limit themselves to taking it off during downtime or when things get exciting. consider the few times that panda’s done so, involving a fight.
> 
> as for the actual meeting, teep and panda are initially awkward. however, it doesn’t take long for the two to banter again. they don’t want to go back to that horrible period of fighting and chasing each other, and burn themselves out again. the only thing left’s friendship. friendship brought them together and it keeps them together, even after everything. they also let it (in comparison to some people).
> 
> if you read through this story and keep in mind what teep was doing just prior to the duel, the way that it’s all set out makes perfect sense. teep’s reading through all their conversations with everyone. teep might have wiped all the other stuff on their echo device, but they couldn’t bring themself to wipe the conversations as well. this turns out to be one of the very things that'd save them.
> 
> is panda glad to spare them? yes, yes they are. teep is also glad they did. they have a lot of things to talk about.
> 
> [here](https://borderlandscast.tumblr.com/tagged/beyond-the-borderlands%3A-a-bullet-with-your-name-on-it) is a lone doodle by the hardworking siins. thank you very much for reading this fic until its end. see you in ‘tlvh’, which is happening next month!


End file.
